Narcosis
by Philote
Summary: Exposure to an alien substance has frightening effects on some of the crew.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Narcosis

Author: Piper (hyperpiper_019@hotmail.com)

Summary: Exposure to an alien drug has frightening effects on some of the crew.

Rating: PG-13 

Category: Drama, Sci-fi/Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort

Disclaimer: The characters, situations, and anything recognizable from _Enterprise_ don't belong to me. Anything else is the product of my sleep-deprived mind (including the three original characters: Eli, Eric, and Chelsea.) No money is being made, this is for entertainment only. Please don't sue. 

Spoilers: references to "Shuttlepod One" 

~*~

"Almost there, sir."

Lt. Malcolm Reed carefully directed the shuttlepod to the docking port. Beside him, Commander Charles Tucker stared out at the leviathan before them. "She's quite a sight, isn't she?" Trip said with a bit of wonder in his voice.

"Yes, sir," Malcolm had to agree. They were looking out at a beautiful but decidedly alien construction. The outer skin had a luminescent green hue, and the structure itself was huge and looked intricate.

From her position slightly behind the men, T'Pol put her two cents in. "We should be wary, Commander. We have no way of knowing what we may find on board." This was true. Their scans had been unable to penetrate the outer shell, leaving them with little idea of what they were walking into.

Trip rolled his eyes. "I am well aware of the situation. Doesn't mean we can't admire the craftsmanship."

She raised her eyebrows. "Too much admiration and too little caution can have disastrous results."

Trip heaved a long-suffering sigh. "You're sucking the magic right out of this mission, you know that?"

Malcolm resisted the urge to laugh as the two of them continued with T'Pol's commentary on magic. Their interactions were usually entertaining. He was rather impressed with the three ensigns they had brought along, who were wisely staying out of the conversation from their position in the back of the pod. 

One was the daughter of a ranking Starfleet officer with a genius IQ and a very scientific, curious mind. The two boys were brothers; also very intelligent but from a much less prominent background that supposedly had not been too pleasant. Whatever had happened to them in the past they were close now, and were the only set of siblings on the Enterprise's maiden voyage.

As Malcolm maneuvered to lock into the alien airlock, he noticed something that made him break into his superiors' dialogue. "It looks as if some of the life pods are missing. Most of them, actually."

Trip came to look over his shoulder. "Maybe that's why they aren't answering our calls. Maybe they all got out."

"Which begs the question," came a feminine voice from behind them, "why did they all get out? I don't see any battle damage." Ensign Chelsea Thomas had moved from her seat to get a better look. She was right.

After a moment of silence, Trip put in, "I guess we're gonna find out."

The Enterprise had intercepted a distress call from this location a few hours earlier, after which no one had responded to their hails. They had dropped out of warp and come to investigate what they assumed to be an alien ship in some sort of trouble. It wasn't until they had arrived that they realized it wasn't a ship at all, but a space station. It was in the outer orbit of a small planet.

They had tried hailing the planet many times, but received no response there either. At that point, against T'Pol's advice, the Captain had decided to go ahead with a boarding party.

As they prepared to disembark the shuttle, the Commander was giving his version of advice to the ensigns. "Okay, kids. Stay alert and stay close. Don't touch anything that's flashing, moving, or looks like it might be alive to take offense. Set the weapons to stun, and try not to point them in my direction." Aside to Malcolm he added in a whisper, "Gives me flashbacks."

Malcolm chuckled, getting the reference and recognizing that he was being teased. Unlikely as it might have seemed, he and Trip had become good friends. The 'incident' aboard the shuttlepod had bonded them and given them common ground. Most of the details of said incident had remained between the two of them, including the little matter of Malcolm threatening to shoot his superior officer. 

As they clicked their helmets into place, T'Pol was delivering a slightly more detailed lecture about procedures and cautions. Malcolm and Trip tuned her out, having heard it many times, and double-checked their equipment and the ensigns'. A few minutes later they were climbing from their airlock into the other ship. Malcolm and T'Pol went first while Trip brought up the rear.

The sight that greeted them was not unusual. Beyond the airlock, the station's corridor was actually quite similar to those on Enterprise, and it was empty. Malcolm cautiously led the way as T'Pol checked her instruments. After a moment she announced, "I'm not reading any lifeforms nearby."

"If it's deserted," Chelsea spoke up, "should we even be here?"

"She has a good point. If there is no one to help, we have no valid reason to be here. We could be intruding where we are not welcome," T'Pol said.

"Someone called for help, didn't they?" Tucker insisted. "We have to check it out."

T'Pol raised her eyebrows once more but said nothing else. They continued down the hallway. When they came to a door they attempted to open it, to no avail. 

They repeated this action many times with each door they came to, until even Tucker was getting a bit fed up with this particular exploration. T'Pol continued to read no life signs.

They eventually came to a fork in their path. The main hallway continued on, but a major branch headed off to the left and down a flight of stairs. After a moment of debate on the direction they should take, T'Pol said, "Perhaps it would be best if we split up and cover both paths. Commander Tucker and I will take the lower level, and Lieutenant Reed can continue on this corridor."

Trip, slightly perturbed at being told what to do, took over by dividing up the ensigns. "West, you come with us." 

Two blond heads turned towards him. "Which one sir?"

"Little one."

Eric West smirked as his younger brother slightly cringed at the word 'little.' The two were just over a year apart in age and they were very similar in looks. Eric was about an inch taller and had brown eyes, while little brother Eli had blue. Other than that it was hard to tell them apart until one got to know them. 

"Alright, I'll take Thomas and the other West," Malcolm said as the two groups divided and his two assignments came to stand beside him. "We'll stay in contact."

Eric gripped Eli's arm as he started to turn away. Malcolm watched as unspoken communication went between the two. He didn't really know the brothers, but Travis had told him they were close and that Eric was very protective. Neither spoke a word now, but it was obvious that big brother was warning Eli to be careful, and that Eli thought he worried too much. The younger brother gave the older a cocky smile, and Eric rolled his eyes.

"Hey," Trip's voice brought Malcolm's attention back to him. "Watch your backs, okay?"

"Of course," Malcolm replied. "You too." Then he addressed Chelsea and Eric. "Let's go."

The two groups parted ways.

~*~

Meanwhile, aboard the Enterprise, Captain Jonathan Archer was in his quarters recording a log entry and awaiting word from his away team. Porthos bounced around at his feet, growling playfully and pushing his nose against his master's ankle, wanting attention. The Captain finally gave in and reached for the dog, pulling him up into his lap and promptly receiving a tongue on his face. He smiled, welcoming the show of affection.

Still, he was preoccupied with the away team. He wished he had been part of it; he never liked sending his crew into a dangerous situation without him. But Dr. Phlox had put down that idea this time. The Captain was still recovering from a recent mild case of flu, and the doctor thought it best to keep him aboard the Enterprise. T'Pol and Trip had agreed with him and reassured Jon that they could handle it.

He fully trusted his officers and their abilities. Still, something about this entire situation seemed off, and he had a bad feeling about it.

A few minutes later he put Porthos down to answer a call from the bridge. "Captain, we're receiving a message," Hoshi's voice came through.

"From the boarding party?" he asked.

"No, sir…from the planet."

A bit surprised, he hurried from his quarters towards the bridge. When they had received no response earlier, they had assumed that there was no one on the planet with the capability to answer them. After all, the station could have been made by a different race. The people on the planet might not even know they were there. It now appeared that that wasn't the case.

As soon as he reached the bridge he nodded to Hoshi. "Put it through."

"Yes, sir."

His screen soon filled with a large, greenish, and rather irate alien. "Hello," Archer said tentatively.

The alien wasted no time on pleasantries. He spoke in an odd dialect, but after a few moments Hoshi was able to translate from the universal translator. "He says that his sensors have detected us near their space station and he wants to know what we're doing. He's not too happy, sir. But if he knows we already have people over there, he's not giving any indication."

Archer took a deep breath, silently praying he would be able to placate this guy without putting his team at risk. "Tell him we received a call for help from his space station, and that we are simply trying to provide any assistance that may be needed. We apologize if we are intruding."

He waited as Hoshi translated and the message was relayed. The alien's demeanor changed slightly, but not enough to put Archer at ease. He spoke again, and the Captain looked to Hoshi. "He says that they were aware of that call for help and that they evacuated the station before we arrived. They appreciate our concern, but they have everything under control." She looked to the Captain. "He asks that we please be on our way."

Archer studied the face before him. He didn't like this; something still didn't feel right. But to the alien, he smiled and said, "Tell him of course, we'll be on our way as soon as possible. Unfortunately, we seem to have damaged an engine. Nothing we can't handle, but we will need a few hours for repairs."

Hoshi raised her eyebrows, but did as he asked. The alien still didn't look happy, but he grudgingly accepted and cut the communication without another word.

Crisis averted, at least for the time being, Archer turned back to his current bridge crew. "Keep an eye on that planet, I want to know if there's any movement." To Hoshi he said, "Contact the away team. Find out what's going on, and let them know there's a time crunch."

~*~

Back on board the station, Malcolm's team had found nothing on the main corridor. When another branch had gone right and appeared to lead to an upper level, Malcolm had decided to take it. Now they found themselves in an area that appeared to be laboratories of some sort, all with glass walls and partitioned off from a central area. 

Malcolm made for the lab on his immediate right and was surprised when he found the door open. He motioned to Thomas and West to follow before entering cautiously.

It was definitely a laboratory where chemicals were in use. The central table was strewn with glass containers and beakers, many filled with different colored liquids. But something had clearly gone wrong in this room. There was broken glass on the floor and puddles of spilled chemicals. A lockable cabinet near the door had been broken into, with some beakers lying haphazardly on the floor. Malcolm focused on the cabinet, seeing a red substance on the shards that he didn't think was some unidentifiable chemical. He was pretty sure it was blood.

"Sir?"

Malcolm looked towards Thomas, who was turning a bit pale as she stared at some spot on the floor. He quickly moved to follow her line of sight. What he found made his heart skip a beat.

There was a body on the floor—female, humanoid, and covered with bruising and small patches of blood. Her red blood contrasted sharply with her pale greenish skin. Malcolm quickly knelt beside her, performing a bio-scan.

Eric came up beside Chelsea, who seemed frozen to the spot. He had to look away for a moment before he gathered himself and asked, "Is she dead?" 

Malcolm studied the instrument, then the body before him. "Yes," he responded, "though she hasn't been for too long. Rigor mortis has barely set in."

Chelsea seemed to snap back to reality. She looked nervously at the chemicals and samples surrounding them. "Do you think we're exposing ourselves to something, sir?"

"I don't think she died from anything internal," Malcolm said quietly, carefully tilting her chin up. The deep ligature marks on her neck said it all.

Suddenly, there was a movement in the corner of the room. They all spun to face it, pistols coming up and flashlight beams centering on the source.

In the sudden beams of light, a terrified little creature froze in its tracks and stared up at them with wide eyes. It was furry and a good bit larger than a rat, but it seemed similar. Its tail curled behind it as it shivered in fear.

Malcolm forced himself to take a few calming breaths as he glanced back at his two ensigns.

"What is it?" Eric asked.

"Probably some sort of lab subject," he responded. He cast one more glance at the dead female before he stood to his feet. "We should get T'Pol and Commander Tucker up here. Keep an eye on the creature." It didn't look like it would pose a threat, but one never knew. He reached to switch his Comm link to speak with the others.

At that moment Eric took a step towards the creature and slipped on a stray test tube. He managed to stay on his feet, but only with Chelsea's help. Both of their lights swung crazily and the terrified creature bolted—straight into the table leg. Already unsteady, the table and its wealth of test tubes and glass containers toppled. Glass broke, chemicals spilled and mixed.

A strange fog-like fume filled the air and swept over the three of them. Malcolm wasn't too worried since they had on their suits, but he was definitely concerned that he couldn't see West and Thomas through the haze. Then he suddenly had another problem. It started with a strange tingle on his arm. Then it spread to cover most of his body. 

The fume, whatever it was, was eating through the environmental suit.

His helmet actually cracked in front of his face. Somewhere to his left, Chelsea screamed.

Then everything went black.

~*~

To Be Continued

*If you're reading this and you like it, please let me know!*


	2. Chapter 2

Narcosis: Chapter 2

by Piper

__

See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and other story notes.

~*~

On the lower level of the space station T'Pol, Trip, and Eli West were making discoveries of their own.

It hadn't taken long to figure out that this level housed the living quarters. Most of these doors, unlike the ones they had encountered earlier, opened easily with a touch. The first three all led to tidy rooms, complete with single bunks, dressers, and desks. There they found some stacked papers written in alien symbols with graphs and tables that T'Pol thought must suggest some kind of scientific research.

After the third similar room T'Pol recommended that they split up to search the others. She took the next one on the right, Eli went left, and Trip headed for the end of the hallway. 

When he stepped into the room, Trip decided he had definitely gotten the best end of the deal. 

It reminded him of a hospital chapel, only more ornate. There were rows of pews facing a raised area in the front, but the walls caught his attention. They boasted windows showing off the stars intertwined with intricate pictures of flowers, animals, and other symbols he didn't recognize. He was in awe—until he reached the front of the room.

The majesty was marred by a greenish, humanoid body lying across the steps.

He sucked in a breath, then spoke through their comm. "T'Pol, you'd better come see this." She was at his side in a matter of minutes and took a bio-scan of the body.

"Dead?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes," she responded. Together they rolled the body onto its back.

"I don't see a mark on him," he commented.

"Sir?" He turned to face West, who had just come running into the room. The boy was already pale, and as he spotted the body he turned a shade whiter.

Trip moved closer to him, blocking his view as he did so. "Hey, Eli, it's alright. Take a breath," he said gently.

Eli's gaze finally settled on Trip. "No, it's not. I found something too."

Trip and T'Pol traded a glance, then followed West back to the room he had been checking. He led them to the small adjoining bathroom, then stood back, looking away. One glance told them why.

This body wasn't nearly as clean as the other one. Bright red blood coated the wall and the side of the greenish head. He had fallen to the floor, but the weapon was still in his right hand. 

The Vulcan and the human shared another glance. Something awful had happened on this station, and their situation was getting worse by the minute.

Eli, looking a bit sick, had wandered back to sit on the room's bed as he tried to control his breathing. Trip and T'Pol were holding a quiet conference in the bathroom doorway when he suddenly jumped up, looking towards the hallway. "What is it, West?" Trip asked.

Eli looked back at him. "I thought I heard something, sir."

T'Pol raised her eyebrows a bit doubtfully, but the two of them made their way past the shaken ensign to make a quick search of the hallway. Finding nothing, they came back to West. Trip put a steadying hand on the young man's shoulder. "It's alright. We're all a little jumpy."

As Eli took a minute to calm down, T'Pol assessed the situation. Shortly she said, "I advise we reunite with the Lieutenant's party and leave this station as soon as possible."

Tucker nodded in agreement, then switched the comm. to call for Malcolm.

He got no response.

~*~

Hoshi was frustrated. "It's not working."

"Then try again." Captain Archer was more frustrated.

"I've tried ten times; we're not going to be able to contact them until they're outside those walls, sir."

He sighed. Their scans hadn't gone through the structure; now he was finding out that their communications wouldn't either. They had known this was a possibility. That was why he had three ranking officers over there, all of whom had been at the helm of Enterprise and made decisions for the entire crew. They were fully qualified to handle anything that came up.

But that wasn't helping him now. His team needed to know that the planet didn't exactly welcome their presence here. And Archer would feel a lot better if he knew what was going on over there. He still had a bad feeling about this situation, and with each moment he was in the dark his anxiety increased.

"Do we have any read on the planet's sensor abilities?" he asked, addressing the rest of his bridge crew.

"It took them quite a while to notice us, but I'd guess they're keeping a close eye on us now," Mayweather volunteered.

"You think they would know if we launched another shuttle?"

"We can't know for sure. It would be a risk, Captain."

Archer grimaced unhappily. The bridge was silent as he considered his options. After a few minutes he announced, "We'll give them another half hour. Then we take the risk."

~*~

Last they had heard from Malcolm and his party, they were heading up to the next level.

Trip, T'Pol, and Eli wasted no time finding the stairway. Their movements were cautious but quick, as Trip was still getting no response from them. The bodies below had given them a sobering view of their situation, and now they were all a bit worried about what they might find when they reached the others. There was a definite sense of urgency.

When they reached the landing, they found the same bay of laboratories the others had discovered earlier. All of the doors were closed, giving them no clue of where to start. "Let's split up," T'Pol suggested. She motioned Trip to the right and Eli to the left, heading up the center of the main room herself.

"Yes, because look how well that turned out last time," Trip muttered under his breath as he headed cautiously for the first lab on the right.

He opened the door slowly, immediately noticing the broken glass cabinet. Deciding that that didn't bode well, he promptly turned to cast light across the room. What he found froze him to the spot and made his heart skip a few beats.

Forgetting caution he yelled, "T'Pol get in here!" and quickly went to the three prone forms on the lab floor. It wasn't until he got closer that he saw the forth body with familiar green skin. One glance told him she was dead; her neck looked to be broken and she was otherwise a general mess. 

It was the condition of Malcolm, Thomas, and West that really concerned him. They were all unconscious—at least he prayed they were only unconscious—but that was the least of it.

Their suits, what little was left of them, were in tatters.

He heard T'Pol enter behind him. She quickly crossed to his side. He crouched and started to reach for Malcolm, but she grabbed his arm. He shook off her grip and stared angrily, but she just said calmly, "Commander, the chemicals."

He took a breath. She was right. To have eaten through an environmental suit, a chemical would have to be pretty toxic. It would likely go just as easily through theirs. But it killed him to simply sit there, not even knowing if they were alive or not.

"Eric!" West had reached the door, and immediately rushed to his brother's side.

"Eli! Don't touch him," Tucker warned.

That wasn't an easy order to follow. It took a visible effort for the younger brother to force himself _not_ to move to help. But he could easily see the state of the environmental suit that had protected his brother, and after glancing around and seeing the chemicals he realized why he was being told not to touch. He crouched beside Eric, but he obeyed Trip and awaited his superiors' decisions.

Tucker was doing the same thing; forcibly restraining himself from touching Malcolm until T'Pol could tell him something. She was a few feet away performing a bio-scan on Thomas. "She is alive," came the verdict a few moments later.

Trip let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "So what's wrong with her?"

"She is unconscious."

"We know that!"

T'Pol's look clearly said that she didn't approve of his emotional reaction. "My scan can tell me nothing more. By my readings, she seems to be fine."

"Oh yeah, she's just peachy," Tucker mumbled. He forced himself to calm down and think. "There's nothing toxic on her skin or what's left of the suit?"

"Nothing that shows on the scan. But that does not necessarily mean there is nothing there."

"Okay. Check Eric," he ordered, then belatedly realized that she outranked him and tacked on, "please."

As she moved to do so, Trip made a decision and tentatively reached to touch Malcolm's face. He was prepared to jerk back at any sign of corrosion, but he felt nothing through the glove. He left his fingers there for a moment before pulling his hand up to visually inspect the glove. He could see nothing.

Deciding it was safe enough, he put his hand on Malcolm's chest and was relieved to feel the rise and fall that signaled breathing. He was alive. Trip turned to tell T'Pol.

At that moment, he felt a slight movement under his hand. He quickly turned back, afraid to find his glove disintegrating before his eyes. It wasn't. He was confused—then he realized Reed had moved.

"Hey, I think we're waking up over here!" he called to the others. He put his hand to Malcolm's cheek again, smacking it lightly. "C'mon Malcolm, wake up for me," he softly coaxed.

He was rewarded when two eyes slowly opened into thin slits, staring up at him. After a moment of confusion, recognition registered. "Commander?" came the weak voice.

"You're eventually going to call me Trip," Tucker said, a happy smile gracing his face. He glanced up as T'Pol knelt on Reed's other side, performing yet another bio-scan. 

"He reads the same as the others."

A weak groan sounded from their left. T'Pol moved again as Thomas stirred. Tucker looked from her to the two boys, where Eric was also showing signs of consciousness. Eli looked at Trip questioningly, almost pleading. Trip nodded assent and Eli quickly moved to comfort his brother, placing a grounding hand on his chest and stroking his hair, speaking to him softly all the while.

"Commander?" Trip quickly turned back to his own patient. "What happened?"

"We were hoping you could tell us," T'Pol said, overhearing the question.

Glancing at the alien body a short distance from his friend, Trip said, "I vote we get them out of here, back to Phlox, and ask questions later."

T'Pol considered it. "That would probably be best. We could always come back later if needed." That said, she began to help Thomas to her feet.

Trip sincerely hoped it wouldn't be needed. He turned back to Malcolm. "Can you walk?" 

Malcolm looked a little doubtful but said gamely, "Of course."

Trip grinned. Malcolm wasn't one to be held back by much of anything. Still, it took an awful lot of help on Trip's part to get the lieutenant upright, and once there he needed a good amount of support. The others were in a similar situation, T'Pol with Chelsea and Eli with his brother. If they were to meet anyone—or anything—on the way out they would be seriously hindered in protecting themselves. But they had little choice. Despite the scans these three could need real medical attention.

Trip wrapped an arm around Malcolm's waist and pulled his friend's arm over his shoulder. With one last glance at the lab, they headed towards their shuttlepod.

~*~

The half-hour was up. Archer turned to Mayweather. "I'm going to take another shuttle over there."

"Sir, Dr. Phlox hasn't cleared you for an away mission yet."

"I'm not going to stay; I'm just going to get past the communications barrier and tell our people to get a move on."

"Sir, with all due respect, it might take more than that," Travis paused then said, "I'd be happy to do it."

Archer sighed in frustration. He was worried about his people and he hated being put in that position. The only thing worse would be to send more people into the same situation. He wanted to do it himself, but he knew that Travis was right. If he had to fight, he might not have the strength, and that wouldn't help things at all.

Luckily, the decision was taken out of his hands.

"Our pod has just detached from the station," one of the crewmen announced.

"Sir, I'm getting a message…it's Commander Tucker."

Jonathan hurried to Hoshi's console. He didn't have to tell her to put it through; she already had. "Enterprise, this is Tucker. Come in," came the voice.

"Commander, we've been anxiously awaiting your call," he said, sharing a smile with Hoshi as a barely audible sigh of collective relief went around the bridge.

"You weren't worried about us were you, Cap'n?" Trip said teasingly.

"You? Never. You'd never give me cause to worry about you," he responded in kind. Then he reminded himself that this was a time to be professional. "What did you find?"

There was a pause, then "We'll fill you in on everything. But first, you need to have Dr. Phlox meet us ASAP."

"Trip?" Archer asked warily, his moment of joy thrown off. He was concerned, and he and Tucker were close enough that the simple inflection he put into Trip's name conveyed his emotions.

Trip hesitated a moment. Jon's worry tripled.

Eventually the entire bridge crew heard, "Better have the decontamination rooms ready, Cap'n. There's no telling what we may be carryin'.

~*~

To Be Continued

*Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review! Please continue to let me know if you like it!

It will probably be at least a few days between posts, but I try to get new chapters up within a week. I know what it's like to have to wait between parts!*


	3. Chapter 3

Narcosis: Chapter 3

By Piper

__

See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and other story notes.

~*~

Eli West was pacing. That was an interesting feat in a small decontamination room that was also occupied by two other people.

"Ensign, that is not a very productive use of your energy."

West acknowledged T'Pol with an absent nod and a "Yes, ma'am," but he didn't stop.

Dr. Phlox had taken the still shaken Reed, Thomas, and West to med-bay, albeit under quarantine. He had wanted to examine them immediately. That left T'Pol, Tucker, and the younger West waiting in the decontamination room for his verdict. Though there had been nothing apparent on them to warrant decontamination, Phlox wanted to keep them there as a precaution until he knew more about the others.

As Eli went past him yet again, Tucker decided that he had finally had enough. When a few more steps brought the ensign in front of him again he grabbed the young man's arm and pulled him gently but firmly onto the bench beside him. Eli gave him a frustrated look, but his face was like an open book displaying his worry for his brother. "Just relax, kid," Trip tried to sound comforting. "I'm sure they're fine."

But he was far from sure. And Eli was no more convinced of it than Trip was. But since he was clearly getting on his superior officer's nerves, he managed to stay relatively still.

What seemed an agonizingly long time later, the intercom came on. "You all can come out now," came Dr. Phlox's voice.

Trip and Eli almost fell over each other trying to get out of the room. T'Pol came behind, managing to maintain an air of dignity. Outside they found the doctor and the captain. They accepted the offered clothes gratefully, and Phlox waited while they got dressed

"Well?" Trip asked the doctor anxiously.

"There's nothing wrong with them."

Trip stared at him for a beat, then said in unison with Eli, "What?"

Phlox reiterated, "Every test I have the capability to perform says that there is nothing wrong with them."

Another minute of confused silence passed. 

"Okay, so we should just consider that unconsciousness is a side-effect of what? Getting into a shuttlepod?" Trip asked incredulously.

"Trip…" Jonathan started warningly. Tucker was usually easy-going and quick to humor. But when he was worried, that humor quickly gave way to sarcasm and easy-going just went out the window.

"Cap'n, they were exposed to chemicals. They lost consciousness for who knows how long and their suits were practically gone! And everyone keeps insisting that they're _fine_? Maybe something's wrong with the equipment. Either that, or I've stepped into the twilight zone!" At his side Eli appeared to agree whole-heartedly. Everyone else was looking at him like a child who needed to be pacified.

Phlox chimed in, "It is more likely, Commander, that the chemicals were of such design that they simply ate through the material of the suits. They seem to have had no effect on their flesh or internal systems."

"And they were unconscious because…"

T'Pol spoke up, "It is possible that the shock of seeing their suits disintegrate simply caused them to faint.

Despite himself, Trip snorted. "Beautiful. I can't wait to see Malcolm's reaction to that theory." He shook his head, then added, "I don't buy it. What do they think about all of this?"

Archer took over. "They don't remember much after finding the woman's body. Although West did say something about a big fuzzy mouse."

That threw everyone for a second. It was Eli who said skeptically, "What, like Mickey?" 

T'Pol and Phlox looked confused at the reference. The Captain shrugged.

But Trip soon recovered from the momentary distraction. "What about the woman? And the others that we found? They didn't just faint."

Phlox considered that. "Yes, it would be useful to examine them if we seek to learn what really happened over there. Other than that, I don't know what to tell you. Whatever happened, our people are fine now."

~*~

A few hours later, the Enterprise was still holding orbit near the station. It wasn't curiosity that kept him here; it was the health of his crew. Because truthfully, like Trip, he was reluctant to believe that everything was just fine. And he didn't want to leave if they might later need something—be it a chemical sample or an autopsied green alien.

At the same time, he didn't want to send anyone else back over there. There was still an unknown factor and risk that apparently their environmental suits couldn't protect them from. And he didn't particularly want to risk upsetting the station's creators any more than he already had. Although they had had no more trouble since that first conversation, he assumed that it was only a matter of time before his excuse of fixing the engine would run out.

Jonathan turned when the door to the bridge was opened and smiled when he saw who it was. "Malcolm," he greeted, "It's good to see you up and about."

"Thank you Captain," he responded with typical Reed politeness. "I feel fine really; like nothing ever happened. I'd like to get back to work."

"Yeah, he's back to normal," Trip chimed in with a grin from his side, having entered the bridge with him. "Malcolm, when you get time off, you take it and enjoy it."

Jon smiled in response along with Malcolm. Trip appeared to have relaxed, probably because he was seeing for himself that his friend seemed fine. Ever since the shuttlepod incident the chief engineer had taken up a brotherly role with the armory officer that was making him rather protective. Archer didn't mind; he thought the relationship was good for both of them. He liked that his crew was like a family. Vulcans might scoff at the idea, but it was working great for this human.

Neither Trip nor Malcolm was on duty; both having been given what Trip liked to refer to as a medical "time-out." But he had summoned them to the bridge, along with T'Pol, for their opinions on the current situation. They knew the risks of that station better than he did, and he trusted their judgement.

T'Pol joined them shortly, and the Captain led the three of them to the situation room. They had barely begun to discuss options when the next crisis hit.

"Captain?" Hoshi interrupted. Archer turned to her. "We're getting a transmission."

"From the planet?"

"No, from a small ship coming up on our starboard side."

Brilliant. "Put it through." He expected an unhappy green alien to appear on the screen, and steeled himself for it. Instead, the face that soon showed had a skin tone similar to his own. Surprised, he stammered, "Uh...hello. Can we help you?" 

He received a string of familiar-sounding words in response. He turned to Hoshi, who confirmed it with a nod. "He's speaking the same language as the other one did, sir." She listened for a moment before translating, "He wants to know what we're doing orbiting their planet."

"_Their_ planet?"

"Scans show that they have hardly any weapons, Captain," said the lieutenant occupying T'Pol's usual station. "And there are only two lifeforms on board. I don't think they're much of a threat."

T'Pol came to look over her shoulder. "She is correct, Captain. And this ship appears to be nowhere near the architecture of that station."

He considered the implications of that. "So what are we talking about here? A less advanced race coexisting with the first one we encountered?" He got no answer before the aliens began chattering again.

"They may be a different race Captain, but I don't think they like us being here any more than the first one did. Leaving out some of the more colorful language, they've apparently decided that they don't care about our intentions, they just want us gone. Or else."

"Or else what? They'll break out their slingshots and take aim?" Trip snickered. "It's like David challenging Goliath."

"David beat Goliath, you know," Malcolm said softly from Trip's side.

"Okay, bad example."

"Hoshi, tell them that we're peaceful explorers and are simply passing through the system. We'd like to meet them if they're interested."

She relayed the message. A long string of words followed, accompanied by some rather unpleasant facial expressions. "Uh…they politely decline, Captain."

"Politely?" he asked in disbelief. 

She shrugged. "They still want us to leave."

"Pause the transmission," he said to Hoshi, then turned to the others. "Any thoughts?"

"Would you like for me to hit them with the laser cannon, sir?" Malcolm asked.

Archer almost smiled and accused him of hanging out with Trip too much; the engineer's since of humor must be rubbing off. But then he took a good look at Reed and considered the statement. The man was perfectly serious. "Uh…no. That seems a bit extreme," he finally responded. "Any other thoughts?" he asked, though he kept a wary eye on Reed. This was a little gun-happy, even for him.

"We should go, Captain," T'Pol offered succinctly. "The doctor says that we are fine. Whatever may have happened on that station, there is nothing we can do now and no other reason to stay. It would be best to stay out of the conflict."

"Trip?"

"Well, if we are dealing with two different races here, this one might be responsible for what happened on the station. Maybe the other race is in trouble on the planet. We were asked for help, Cap'n."

"We were asked by those on the station, and they are now dead. The living of both races have requested that we leave," T'Pol interjected. "We should not interfere where we are not welcome."

"We should just blow them up and be done with it," Malcolm put in. Trip and T'Pol ignored him, not taking it seriously, but Jonathan studied the lieutenant carefully. Again, he wasn't joking. This was starting to be of some concern.

He put that worry aside for a moment to consider their arguments. He eventually decided. "I'm sorry Trip, but I agree with T'Pol on this one. I'm not taking any more unnecessary risks with your lives today. Hoshi, inform them that we're on our way."

She nodded and did just that. As the seemingly pacified aliens turned to go, Jon walked back to stand in front of his chair. Malcolm followed. "Sir, they threatened us. That in itself makes them an enemy."

"An enemy with barely enough firing capability to scratch the paint, Malcolm. They're no real threat to us."

"Captain, as you just pointed out, we are more than capable of destroying them. We should do just that!" This time Malcolm's vehemence earned surprised looks from more than just the Captain.

"Lieutenant, I have made my decision. We are leaving." As Reed silently fumed beside him, he turned to Travis. "Take us to warp, Ensign."

"_No_ Travis," Reed promptly and emphatically contradicted his order.

Mayweather simply stared between the two of them, mouth slightly open in shock.

"Lieutenant, you are out of line," Archer said as calmly and authoritatively as he could manage at that moment. Then he repeated firmly, "Ensign Mayweather, take us to warp."

Travis snapped his mouth shut and turned back to his console, doing as he was told.

The change in speed took Jonathan's attention from his irate armory officer for a moment. It was long enough. He didn't even see the fist coming.

It wasn't until he found himself suddenly sitting on the floor by his chair that he realized what had happened. He took a second to rub his aching jaw in disbelief, and before he could gather his thoughts Reed was on him again.

At her station, T'Pol pushed the lieutenant aside and called for security. Everyone else was staring in shock.

It was against everything Jon had ever been taught and believed to use violence on one of his subordinate officers. But since said officer suddenly seemed hell-bent on hurting him, he felt justified in delivering a well-placed punch to his lieutenant's eye. It was enough to knock Reed off balance the few seconds until Tucker reached them. 

Trip got a grip on Malcolm from behind and physically hauled him off of their captain. He was forced to hold tight when his friend tried to break away from him. "Relax, lieutenant," he said into Malcolm's ear. He meant it to be an order, but it came out more of a plea.

As Archer climbed to his feet in front of them, two security officers came bursting onto the bridge. They stopped short at the scene, confused. "Sir?" It was a little unclear whether he was addressing Archer or Reed, who they usually answered to.

Malcolm, meanwhile, stopped struggling and deflated in Trip's strong hold. A lost look came into his eyes. Jonathan studied him for a moment, then motioned to the guards. "Take him to med-bay. And keep him there until I say otherwise."

As a slightly subdued Reed was led off by two of his own men, Archer and Trip exchanged a long glance. Jonathan could see most of what he was feeling reflected in his friend's eyes: confusion, disbelief, and a lot of concern.

No matter what Dr. Phlox's scans said, something was definitely wrong with Lieutenant Reed.

~*~

To Be Continued


	4. Chapter 4

Narcosis:  Chapter 4

By Piper

_See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and other story notes._

~*~

Malcolm was being a very obedient patient.  He was sitting calmly on the bed, enduring another round of tests without a word of complaint.

Dr. Phlox, who hadn't witnessed the explosion on the bridge, was having a hard time believing it had even occurred.  He seemed like a perfectly normal, healthy Malcolm Reed.

"Well lieutenant, it appears that you are…well…" he was reluctant to say it again.

"Fine?" Malcolm finished with a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Well, yes.  Physically, you are fine."  He left unspoken that his mental state was apparently a different story.  "I don't suppose you would like to tell me what that little incident on the bridge was all about?"

"I don't know, honestly.  I remember being upset about something…" he trailed off, shaking his head in frustration.  

Phlox watched him silently, puzzling things out in his head.

~*~

Outside the med-bay doors, two security guards were on duty.  Captain Archer and Commander Tucker were also there, giving Phlox time to evaluate his patient.  Archer was still unconsciously rubbing his jaw, which was developing a rather ugly bruise.

It was a few minutes before the doctor came out to speak with them.  As the door closed behind him he handed the Captain an ice pack, which was accepted gratefully.  

Trip was worried and had little patience left.  He jumped right in before the others could speak.  "Doc, so help me, if you say he's fine…"

"Physically, there is nothing wrong with him."

Trip sighed in exasperation, but Jonathan immediately latched onto the implication.  "Are you saying that this is mental?"

Phlox nodded.  "It is possible that we are witnessing the beginnings of some sort of psychotic breakdown."

Trip stared at him in disbelief.  "You think he's goin' crazy?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it in exactly those words Commander, but yes."

Archer closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He didn't want this to be true.  "What do you suggest we do, doctor?"

"For the time being I would like to keep him here for observation.  If he has any more episodes I'll be able to narrow my diagnosis."

"And if he doesn't?"

Phlox shrugged.  "Only time will tell in a case like this, Captain.  It might not be a bad idea for you all to come and visit him, particularly Commander Tucker.  He might open up to you and give us some insight into this."

They were silent for a few minutes, each contemplating the situation.  Trip soon put in, "Look doc, this is all a little too coincidental for my taste.  What are the chances of him having a sudden breakdown immediately after this thing on the station?"

"I admit; it is suspicious.  There is likely a connection, but it might not be what you want to hear.  It could simply be that the stress of the incident triggered this."

Trip sighed.  "What about the others?  If they're having similar symptoms…"

"Then it would likely be something with the chemicals," Phlox concluded.  "It wouldn't hurt to bring them here for another evaluation, Captain."

Archer nodded.  "Alright.  Trip…"

"I'm on it, Cap'n."  Tucker was already halfway down the hallway.

~*~

Meanwhile, the three ensigns involved had been sent to their quarters with orders to rest.

Eli, at least, was trying to do just that.  It was made difficult by his brother's presence in his room.  Eric was restless and moving around Eli's quarters, not speaking to his brother but also unwilling to go back to his own room next door.  Eli eventually rolled over on the bunk to face his big brother, asking yet again, "Are you sure you're okay?"

He might have expected an annoyed sigh.  Instead he got a harsh, "_Stop asking me that!  Don't you ever shut up?!"_

Eli blinked and almost cringed at the venom in the words.  His brother rarely lost his temper at all and never did it with him.  Lost tempers were painful; that was a hard-learned lesson from their childhood that would stay with them forever.   "I'm just worried about you," he said quietly, allowing his surprise and hurt to creep into his voice.

Eric turned and gave him an almost hateful glare.  "I don't need you."

Eli was caught off guard.  "To worry about you?" he stammered.

"I'm the one who always has to take care of you, little brother."  Normally, Eric used the term 'little brother' teasingly or affectionately.  This was far from either.

"What's wrong?" Eli managed to ask.

"I'm just so sick of always having to put you first!  My life would be a lot simpler without you."

That stung.  Eli knew instinctively that something was wrong with his brother, but he was hurt and he felt his own anger flare.  After all, Eric was the one who had always told him that he shouldn't take this kind of abuse from anyone.  "Okay man, I don't know what's going on with you, but if you're so sick of me you can just leave.  You do have your own quarters you know."

"What, now you think you don't need me?"

Eli was having trouble following this conversation.  "What exactly are you mad at me about?"

"It doesn't matter; that's not the point!"

Eli threw his hands up in exasperation, saying under his breath, "There's a point?"

Unfortunately, Eric heard him.  His anger seemed to triple, and his eyes took on a cold light.  Eli felt a cold rush of fear at the transformation in his normally caring big brother.  He froze, and didn't even try to coordinate a defense.

The pain wasn't instant; it was numbed by shock.  Eli just found himself staring up at the ceiling.  Eric crouched over him, but he couldn't make himself move.  He just braced himself for the pain he knew was coming as old memories came rushing back to mingle with reality.  He shut his eyes, not willing to watch his brother's face contorted in hate, much like someone else they'd left behind long ago.

As his eyes were closed, he didn't see Eric suddenly hesitate.  His face changed, shocked and appalled with the realization of what he was doing.  When the expected blows didn't come, Eli opened his eyes in time to see horror and fear come into his brother's expression.  Then Eric was backing away.  He heard the door open as Eric took off.

It didn't occur to him to get up.  He was busy trying to convince himself that this was just a nightmare that he would wake from soon.

Shortly he heard footsteps in the hallway.  They stopped for a moment, and then hurried towards him.  Commander Tucker's face appeared above him.  "Eli?"

"He hit me," he stated simply, still trying to grasp it.

"Eric?"

Eli nodded slowly.  "He's never hit me," he said lamely, still a bit shocked.  "I didn't do anything!"

Trip winced in sympathy.  "Well, there's a lot of that going around.  You okay?"

No—but he didn't think the Commander was asking about his emotional state.  "I think so, sir."

He allowed Trip to help him sit up, then winced as Tucker probed at his eye.  "You're gonna have a heck of a shiner, but I think you'll live.  If it's any consolation, I don't think he's quite himself."  

Eli reached up to touch his tender eye.  "They aren't fine, are they sir?"

Tucker sighed.  "No.  Lt. Reed went a little nuts on us too," he said, and then winced at his own word choice.  "Dr. Phlox thought it was some kind of breakdown, but this thing with Eric is one coincidence too many.  We need to find him and Thomas before anything else happens."  He helped Eli to his feet, and the ensign trailed after him to find his errant brother.

~*~

Ensign Chelsea Thomas had blood on her hands.

She didn't really remember doing it.  But the mirror was shattered and her hand was bleeding rather profusely from dozens of shallow cuts, so she must have hit the mirror.  She was holding her bleeding right hand with her left, trying to stop the blood flow and trying to avoid panicking.

She was the type who always thought everything through before making a move.  She'd never been very emotional, and rarely did anything purely motivated by emotion.  But there had been no logic to this; just a blind anger at something she couldn't even identify.  She'd been furious, and then she'd been bleeding.  It didn't make sense.

She slowly rose from her position on the bed, forced to wait for the dizziness to pass.  Then she headed for the intercom, intending to call for help.

But the light reflecting off the broken glass caught her attention.  She slowly turned to face it, mesmerized by the shards.  Sharp.  Jagged.  Beckoning.

Involuntarily she took a step towards them, away from help.

~*~

The situation was already out of control when Trip and Eli arrived.

Eric had enough of a head start that it wasn't easy to track him.  Trip was about to alert security to help them look when he received a call that he was needed in engineering.  Apparently there was some problem involving Ensign West.

Trip and Eli had exchanged a worried glance before taking off for engineering.  What they found was not pretty—'problem' was putting it mildly.

Eric had somehow gotten his hands on phase pistol between Eli's quarters and here.  He had a frightened crewman held against him, gunpoint at her throat, and was telling everyone else to back off.  The two security officers who had arrived before them weren't backing off, but they also weren't pressing the issue, simply holding their pistols on him and not trying to get closer.

Eli froze at the sight, again briefly entertaining the notion that this was just a nightmare.  He snapped back to reality when Tucker gripped his arm and started to ease him forward.  "I'm gonna need you to talk to him, Ensign," the Commander said softly.

"That didn't work real well earlier, sir," Eli admitted in a whisper.

"We have to try.  The state he's in right now, he might kill her."

So Eli tentatively followed Trip forward.  They approached slowly until they were standing beside the security officers.  From there, they could see that the pistol was set to kill.  "Ensign West, tell me what's going on here," Tucker ordered.

Eric blinked at them.  He didn't look so angry now; in fact he looked as if he might cry.  Still, he said, "Don't come any closer, sir.  I'll kill her."

"Mind if I ask why?"

Eric deliberately ignored the question, eyes landing on his younger brother and his fast-bruising eye.  "I'm sorry Eli," he said in a barely audible whisper.

Eli didn't think about a response, he just spoke from his heart.  "It's okay, Eric."  His brother shook his head in denial, and Eli quickly added, "Yes, it is.  This isn't you.  Just let her go, and we can work this out."

Eric continued to look at him sorrowfully, but addressed Commander Tucker.  "Please get him out of here, sir."

"He just wants to help, Ensign.  He cares about you and he wants to see you come out of this in one piece."

Eric shook his head and jabbed the gun harshly against the crewman's neck.  She gasped.  "Get Eli out of here, sir," he insisted.

Eli stared, barely remembering to breathe.  Trip reached over and snagged his wrist, pulling him back.  "Go, Ensign," he ordered quietly.

Eli started to protest, "But…"

"Eli, go," he said firmly, giving him a gentle push.  With little choice in the matter, Eli met his brother's shaky gaze one more time, then went.

He got near the door, out of Eric's immediate line of sight, and turned back to watch.  

Trip was trying his best to be a hostage negotiator.  "Alright Eric, I did something for you, now you do something for me.  Let her go and we can talk."

Tears were spilling down his cheeks now.  He met Tucker's eyes and said a soft, "I'm sorry, sir."

He let her go, but not exactly in the way they'd wanted.  He pushed her an arm's length away from him, to his right.  And he raised the pistol, pointing it at her back.

The security officers had a clear line of fire.  They took their shot.

Eric collapsed, stunned by two electrical shocks.  The crewman was pulled out of the way, and Trip went to Eric's side.  From his position by the door, Eli came running back.

He was still a few yards away when the convulsions started.

That wasn't a normal reaction to a stun.  Trip gripped Eric's shoulders, yelling for someone to call for Dr. Phlox.  Eli slid to a stop on his knees beside his brother's shaking body.

A few agonizing seconds later the seizure stopped as quickly as it had started.  Trip put his fingers to Eric's carotid artery, checking for a pulse, then leaned down to check for breathing.  He looked up and met Eli's gaze, shaking his head.

Trip started CPR.  A short distance away, the crewman who had been his hostage was trying not to cry, drawing in shaky breaths that were the only other sound in the room. The scene was almost surreal.  

Trip stopped the rescue breathing to start chest compressions.  "West, help me," he snapped to Eli.  

The younger West responded, moving to take over breathing for his brother, praying silently for him to live.  Unnoticed tears ran down his own cheeks.

~*~

To Be Continued


	5. Chapter 5

Narcosis: Chapter 5

By Piper

__

See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and other story notes.

~*~

In med-bay, Hoshi and Malcolm were having a deep, meaningful conversation. Or rather she was conversing and he was nodding a lot, acting polite but clearly distracted. Drawing the man into conversation was not turning out to be easy.

Captain Archer had asked her to keep Malcolm company, at least while Trip was hunting down West and Thomas. She had been advised against bringing up any violent topics or the incident on the bridge, and was basically trying to make small talk. At some point she had brought up Commander Tucker, and then gone from there to the mating habits of Xyrillians.

As long as Malcolm was calm and semi-responsive she was sticking with what worked. Because truthfully, his attack on the Captain had frightened her and she was still apprehensive now. She certainly didn't want to provoke a repeat performance.

She was about to run out of Xyrillian facts when the call came through. Dr. Phlox was needed immediately in engineering. Hoshi didn't know exactly what was going on, but she had a feeling that it involved one of the ensigns who had been with Malcolm.

Dr. Phlox, who somehow never seemed rattled by anything, calmly but briskly made for the doorway. He turned to her before he left. "Ensign, remember that the guards are right outside if you need them. I'll be back shortly." 

Then he was gone. Hoshi looked from the empty doorway back to Malcolm. He was watching her, looking at her for more than a few seconds for the first time since she'd entered med-bay. She gave him a nervous smile. "So…what do you think that's all about?"

"Probably just a paper cut," he shrugged as if he couldn't care less. A moment later he added, "Or maybe someone died."

Whoa. The smile froze on her face, but her eyes went wide. "Uh…well, I'm sure it's nothing that serious," she finally stammered.

"I wouldn't be so sure," he stated simply.

Okay, she was definitely getting uncomfortable here. Thinking it better to be safe than sorry, she decided to get the guards. As she changed the subject, she stood as nonchalantly as possible and started to edge towards the door. "So, how do you feel about the Klingons?"

It was the first thing that came to her, but it may have been the wrong subject choice. "I think their war-mentality is a very healthy outlook on life," he replied, a definite cold tone in his voice. 

Suddenly he stood and crossed the short distance between them, grabbing her wrist in a vice-like grip. She flinched. Her heart trip-hammered as she looked into his face, suddenly only a few inches from her own. The man in front of her was hardly one she recognized as her friend and fellow officer. 

"Where are you going?" came the icy voice.

"Nowhere," she stammered. When he said nothing and didn't ease his grip, she gathered her courage and opened her mouth to scream for the guards. She never got that far.

A hand clamped across her mouth and she was hauled roughly back to the middle of the room. As she tried uselessly to fight he reached to a nearby supply cart. She was about to bite his hand when she felt the unmistakable prick of a needle in her arm.

Ensign Hoshi Sato fell to the floor, unconscious.

~*~

Eric West was also still unconscious, but at least he was taking breaths on his own again. Phlox had arrived a few minutes earlier and was coordinating the rescue effort with a two-man medical team. Captain Archer came running in a few minutes after the doctor as Trip was pulling Eli away from his brother's side.

Jonathan took in the scene and then made for Commander Tucker. He noticed that Trip kept a hand on Eli; it was quite possibly the only thing holding the ensign up. "Trip," he called as he got close, "What happened here?"

Trip seemed a little out of sorts, taking a long moment to respond. "Eric decided to do a repeat of Malcolm's performance, only on a grander scale."

The Captain took note of the guards, the distressed crewman, and the unconscious ensign. The ensign's brother and the chief engineer didn't look all that great either. "He threatened someone?"

"He took a hostage, sir. We had to take him down," one of the nearby guards offered.

"Take him down?" he repeated, wanting clarification. "You just stunned him, right?"

"Yeah," Trip took the conversation back. "But then he had a seizure and…we had to do CPR." 

Jonathan mentally filled in the words he'd avoided. Eric had stopped breathing; his heart had stopped. He'd clinically died right there on the floor. Archer tried to work through this new addition to the nightmare in his head as he turned to Phlox. "Will he be all right?"

"I really can't tell you yet, Captain. I need to get him to med-bay."

The Captain nodded. "Go." Then he turned back to Trip. "What about Ensign Thomas?"

He shook his head. "I haven't even looked for her yet, Cap'n."

"Alright." He turned his attention to Eli, who was quite possibly in shock beside Trip. "West." He waited until Eli focused on him. "You can go with your brother, but stay out of the doctor's way. Understood?"

Eli nodded. Archer motioned to one of the guards, asking him to be sure that Eli got to med-bay and was looked after. As they walked off, he turned back to Trip. He needed to get his slightly rattled friend out of this scene and give him something to occupy him. He'd stick with him, just in case. No telling what they would have to deal with when they found Chelsea.

"Let's go find Ensign Thomas."

~*~

Ensign Cutler had joined Phlox and the med-team on their way to med-bay. After a quiet request from the doctor she had taken Eli from the guard and was discreetly performing her own medical check. As they trailed behind the stretcher holding his brother, she prompted him to talk and gauged his own mental state and proximity to shock.

After a few minutes she decided that he was upset—and understandably so—but that he was okay physically. It was at about that point as they were nearing med-bay that the entire procession suddenly stopped.

"What's going on?" she asked, trying to see around the others.

No one took the time to answer her, but she found out soon enough. The two security officers who had been assigned to guard Lt. Reed were unconscious on the floor.

The guard who was accompanying them drew his weapon and stepped cautiously through what she could now see were open doors. The rest of them waited in the hallway. Cutler bent to check the nearest guard. "He's okay; he's just been stunned," she announced a moment later.

The guard inside called out shortly, "It's clear. But you've got another patient in here."

As Phlox ordered the others to bring Eric in, Cutler went ahead. She wasn't all that surprised that the patient wasn't Reed; he was conspicuously absent. She rushed to Hoshi's side, immediately checking for a pulse. It was slow, but steady. "She's alive."

Dr. Phlox nodded, relief in his eyes. "Take care of her, Ensign. Someone see to the officers outside, please," he requested as he turned his attention back to his most critical patient. 

Eli was standing in the middle of the room, looking lost. "West," Cutler called. "Come and help me with Ensign Sato." He snapped out of his trance and did as she asked.

The two of them had just managed to get her up to a bed when Sub Commander T'Pol entered. She glanced around, then went over to the doctor. "What happened here? And where is Lt. Reed?"

~*~

They didn't really expect to find Thomas in her quarters, but it was the logical place to start. 

The Captain knocked. "Ensign, it's Captain Archer. Open up, please."

No response.

He tried one more time, then nodded to the security officer beside him. "Open it."

It took a few minutes. Jonathan used that time to study Trip. He could see the day's events taking their toll. "You holding up okay?" he asked.

"I'm peachy, Cap'n," he responded quietly. 

Jon knew it was a lie; at the very least the man was exhausted, but the answer was so typically Trip that he couldn't help but smile. "When this is all over, I'll give you some real time off," he promised.

"Can I sleep late?" 

He chuckled. "As late as you want, Trip." That earned him a grin from his friend. But both of their expressions turned serious again as the officer managed to get the door open. "Give me your weapon," he instructed. The younger man did as he was told, allowing his Captain to enter the room first.

Jonathan cautiously went forward. He scanned the room quickly, eyes quickly coming to rest on the scene on the floor.

At first all that he saw was that the mirror was broken, glass shards were everywhere, and Ensign Thomas was lying in the middle of it. She looked to be unconscious. It wasn't until he was beside her on his knees a few seconds later that he realized the full extent of the damage.

Her wrists were slit.

Pools of blood surrounded her lower arms; her face was ghostly pale from the lack of blood in her body. Her eyes were open, unseeing. Archer swallowed hard, pushing back his forming nausea at the sight. He reached to take a pulse, but he knew long before he touched her that there wouldn't be one. She was dead.

Behind him, he heard a gagging sound. He turned, having momentarily forgotten that he wasn't alone. The security officer was checking the rest of the room, but he had turned a few shades paler. Meanwhile Trip had apparently had his fill of horrible sights for the day. He had slapped a hand over his mouth and turned away, heading blindly for the trash can on the other side of the room.

Jonathan winced in sympathy. He turned back to Chelsea, studying her for a moment. This was the daughter of a Starfleet officer he truly respected—someone who was also a friend. He reached out with a slightly trembling hand to close her eyes, then bowed his head.

Then he pushed himself to his feet. There was little he could do for her now. "Ensign, secure the hallway please," he addressed the security officer. Then he headed over to Trip, who he could help. His chief engineer was crouched over the basket, but he wasn't actually throwing up. It was just dry heaves intermixed with quick, shallow breaths.

The Captain knelt beside his friend and began to rub his back softly. "Easy, Trip. Take some deep breaths for me."

Trip obeyed the gentle command. After a few moments he was able to sit up straight and make eye contact. "Sorry. I'm okay," he said weakly, but his pale complexion and trembling voice betrayed his words. 

"Don't apologize." He would have said more, probably something about understanding how hard Trip had fought to save Eric and that the shock of finding Chelsea dead so shortly after would have thrown anyone off balance. But they were interrupted before he got the chance.

"Captain," came T'Pol's voice through the intercom. 

Archer cast a last glance at Trip and squeezed his shoulder before getting up and crossing to the door. "Yes?"

"We have another problem. Lieutenant Reed is missing."

He stared at the intercom in disbelief. "Missing?! How exactly did that happen?"

"He attacked Ensign Sato and the guards and disappeared from the medical bay."

Jonathan took a deep breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. This day just kept getting worse and worse. "Any serious injuries?"

There was a hesitation, then, "I believe they will all recover. Did you find Ensign Thomas?"

He looked back to the gruesome scene, then said succinctly; "Thomas is dead. We need to find Malcolm, and we need to find him now."

~*~

To Be Continued


	6. Chapter 6

Narcosis: Chapter 6

by Piper

__

See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and other story notes.

~*~

Dr. Phlox drew the curtain around the bed and approached them slowly. As a rule the Denobulan was not easy to read, but Archer could already tell that this was going to be bad news. Beside him, Trip pushed off of the wall he'd been resting against to hear Dr. Phlox's verdict.

He started on the brightest note. "Ensign Sato will be fine. She was injected with a high dosage of a sedative, but there should be no long-term effects. She will recover shortly. The guards will be fine as well."

He paused, and said nothing more until Archer prompted, "And Ensign West?"

"He's slipped into a coma."

Archer sighed and Trip closed his eyes.

Dr. Phlox gave them a moment to process before continuing, "I think it's clear now that the chemicals they were exposed to are responsible, but my equipment still can't pinpoint anything in West. I have to find out exactly what is controlling their behavior before I can counter it. Ensign Thomas's autopsy may answer some questions."

Archer nodded slowly. Then he glanced towards the corner of the room. "What about Eli? I would have expected to find him by his brother's side."

The doctor and Trip followed his gaze. The younger West was standing by himself away from all the action and hadn't moved since Jonathan and Trip came in. He was staring at some random spot on the wall. Someone had given him an ice pack for his eye, which he was holding listlessly to the bruised skin.

Phlox said, "He helped earlier with Ensign Sato. He's just been standing there for a few minutes now."

"He hasn't even asked if he could sit with Eric?"

"He could if he wanted; I told him as much. But he seems more content to stand there."

"And you don't find that odd?" Trip asked.

"No," Phlox responded. Seeing that they would like more of an explanation he continued, "Their medical records are private of course, but I can tell you that he's likely reliving some past memories and working through them."

It was cryptic, but it was enough for the other two, who already had suspicions about the boys' past. Trip winced in sympathy. "He was really shaken when I found him earlier. I guess it's all catchin' up to him."

They stood in silence for a few minutes, all thinking about the situation they were in. Then Phlox spoke up, "I should get started with the autopsy, Captain."

Jonathan nodded, "Of course. Go ahead."

"Wait," Trip spoke up before he could walk away, mentioning something he had been puzzling through in his head. "Thomas killed herself."

"Yeah," the Captain said slowly, waiting to see where this was going.

"West…when he was threatenin' to kill that crewman, he didn't seem mad. He seemed depressed. When he shoved her away he gave them a clear line of fire—it was almost like he wanted to get shot. And he didn't want Eli there to watch."

"His was a suicide attempt also," Jonathan said slowly with realization. He turned to Phlox. "You think they're all having the same symptoms; that they're just progressing at different rates?"

"But Chelsea went straight to suicidal," Trip threw in before the doctor could speak.

"Maybe not," Phlox responded. "If she just wanted to kill herself, there were much easier and less painful ways available to her. Perhaps she broke the mirror in anger first, and then later decided to use the pieces. I would say it is likely that they are going through the same stages."

"If this is true, then Malcolm…" The rest of that statement didn't need to be said; they were all thinking it.

"We have to find him," Trip said, already turning towards the door. 

But Jonathan grasped his arm before he got more than a step away. "I've got most of our off-duty crewmen and officers helping security looking for him. The ship really isn't that big, relatively speaking. They'll find him."

Trip was about to argue, but Phlox interrupted. "Commander, you look a bit pale. Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine."

The doctor was not convinced. "Have you eaten all day?"

"I had breakfast this morning," he said defensively.

"Trip, it's after midnight. That was yesterday morning."

"Well, I think there was a cup of coffee in there somewhere…"

Jonathan sighed in fond exasperation. "Go and get something to eat, then go to your quarters and get some sleep. I'll wake you if anything happens."

"Sir, are you trying to send me to my room for naptime?"

Leave it to Trip to brighten the mood. Jon fought to keep the smile off his face as he said solemnly, "Yes. I'm ordering it, actually."

Trip had a familiar defiant look in his eyes. "Sure thing, Cap'n. Right after we find Malcolm."

"Trip…" he started warningly, but then trailed off with a sigh. This was useless. He'd seen Trip in stubborn mode many times, and the man would never give in when the issue was someone he cared about. Still, he was worried about his friend's own condition. "Alright, let's compromise. You go get something to eat, and take Eli with you. He looks like he's about to drop, and maybe you can get him to talk to you. Then if we haven't found Malcolm yet, you can join the search."

Jon had no doubt that while Trip wouldn't do if for himself, he would for Eli. And he was right; Tucker finally gave in. He went to retrieve Eli. Despite the young man's current disconnected state, Archer still thought that he might balk at being away from his brother. But he didn't, in fact he was surprisingly compliant. He didn't say or do much, just followed the Commander obediently out of the med-bay.

After the two younger officers left, Archer turned back to Phlox. "Let me know what you find with Thomas. I have a call to place to her father, but I'd rather wait until we know exactly what's going on here. I'd prefer not to tell the Admiral that his daughter committed suicide while there's a good possibility of another reason behind it."

~*~

"You don't look so good, kid."

"You don't look that great yourself, sir."

Trip grinned and shook his head, eliciting a small smile from Eli as well. It was true and they both knew it. They were exhausted and by all rights should have been starving, but they were both just pushing the food around on their plates. Their thoughts were obviously elsewhere.

Trip was still quite worried about Malcolm, but he knew that the Captain was right. It wasn't as if he could get off the ship, and on board there weren't that many places for a tactical officer to hide. He was just afraid they wouldn't find him in time. He didn't want to see another crime scene like the one in Thomas's quarters.

He pushed those thoughts away and focused on the plate. The sooner he shoved this food down his throat, the sooner he could help with the search. He stuffed some potato into his mouth and began to chew, looking up at Eli as he did so.

Jon had suggested that he talk to the young ensign. Eli definitely looked as if he could use someone to talk to. "So how are you holding up?" he asked, projecting just enough concern to get Eli's attention.

He got a very small and obviously forced smile in return. "I'll be fine, sir."

"If the Captain were here, he'd tell you that ya sound just like me. And it wouldn't be a compliment."

The smile was a little more real this time. "Sorry, sir."

After a few moments of silence, Trip tried again. "You do realize we're both stuck here until we clean these plates. I'm not going anywhere, if you want to talk."

"You really want to hear all my problems sir?"

"Yes. I'm good with problems. Lay them on me."

Eli actually laughed. "Okay, but just remember you asked for it." Then he paused. "I don't really know where to start."

Trip shrugged, and then asked casually, "Are you mad at him?"

"Sir?"

"Eric. I know you were shaken after he attacked you. And you were staying about as far away as you could get and still be in med-bay."

Eli sighed, finally giving up on the food and setting down the fork. "How much do you know about Eric and me, Commander? About our past?"

Trip shrugged. "I don't _know_ anything. I might have heard some stuff…"

Eli gave him a small smile for his attempt at tact, then tried to find the right words. "Let's just say Eric's always been my protector, and when we were little he had plenty of reason to protect me. Violence was kind of a staple in our childhood."

Trip nodded, having assumed as much, and not going to force him to relive any details he didn't want to. "And he's still very protective of you."

"You noticed that, huh? Yeah, he is. Sometimes it gets on my nerves. But I know that he loves me and sees himself as responsible for me. He would die before he let anyone hurt me; and he'd never hurt me himself."

Trip was glad to hear him speaking in the present tense, but they had just hit the heart of the problem. "And then he did hurt you," Trip put in gently.

Eli nodded, staring down at his forgotten plate. "I'm having trouble getting the image out of my head," he admitted. "I _never_ thought I'd see him like that. I know it isn't really him, but still…"

Trip leaned across the table and looked into his eyes as he spoke. "You just happened to be there when it kicked in, so you took the brunt of it. Chelsea was alone, so her mirror took the hit. And Malcolm, well, he's not exactly the type to go around beating up his Captain. But even with him, I had to pull him off to stop the attack. Eric had nothing to stop him but himself—and he did. Even in that state, he cared enough about you to overcome it. And when we figure this thing out and get him back to normal, he's gonna be horrified that he gave you as much as a black eye."

"I hope you're right, sir."

"Of course I'm right," he said jokingly, then grew serious again. "You love him don't you?"

"Of course. He's my brother."

"And you believe that he still loves you?"

He thought about it for a moment, but he knew the truth in his heart. "Yeah."

"All right then. Shovel that food down, and we'll get you back there to sit with him. He's gonna need you to pull him out of that coma."

~*~

Archer was back in med-bay a few minutes after Phlox called for him. When he arrived he was pleasantly surprised to see Eli sitting by his brother's bedside, holding one hand and talking to him softly. He crossed to Dr. Phlox and angled his head back to the brothers. "That looks like a good sign."

"For Eli, yes. There's been no change with Eric. But the younger one seems to be feeling better after his meal. Commander Tucker brought him back before joining the search for Lt. Reed."

The Captain nodded, then turned back to the matter at hand. "I assume the autopsy turned up something."

"Yes. Everything was normal until I examined the brain." He turned and walked to the counter and started to reach into a container. 

Jonathan realized what he was doing and quickly stopped him. "No, no, that's okay. You can just give me the highlights; I don't need to see it."

Phlox shrugged and pulled his hand back out. "As you wish, Captain. Though it would be easier to explain with a visual aid."

"Just put it in laymen's terms for me, alright?"

"Certainly. The substance they were exposed to, whatever it was, concentrated itself and made it's way to the brain to drastically alter the brain chemistry. As a result, the brain began to bypass some sections and concentrate in others, producing more of some chemicals and stopping production of some."

"Making them act more violently?"

"Without most normal inhibitions, yes."

"And then in the end, creating depression?" Archer asked slowly, catching on and not liking it.

"That is my theory."

The Captain cut to the bottom line. "Can you counter it in the two that are still with us?"

"It should be possible. We would simply have to neutralize the foreign chemical in the brain and restore the normal chemistry."

"There's a 'but,' isn't there?"

"But, I still can't isolate the chemical. No natural substance would do this; it was designed to cause these reactions. The away team described a laboratory. I would guess that these aliens created this as a chemical weapon. I need the specific chemicals to have hope of a counteragent."

"You're telling me that we need to go back to the station."

"I think that is our best chance."

The Captain turned to look at the comatose young man across the room. It took him only a few seconds to make his decision. He crossed to the intercom. "Travis, turn the ship around. We're going back."

"Aye, sir." Mayweather didn't even sound that surprised.

"If it's any consolation Captain, I don't believe it is overriding all of their control. Eric didn't kill Eli when he easily could have; instead he backed off after one punch." 

Seeing his line of thought Jonathan added, "And later he was lucid enough that he knew he didn't want his brother to watch him die."

"Yes. And as I understand, the blood evidence in Thomas's quarters suggests that she was bleeding first and actually headed towards the door before turning back."

"So if we can find Malcolm, it's possible that we could talk him down without anymore bloodshed."

~*~

Trip couldn't believe it was taking this long to find the man. Granted, Malcolm might know this ship better than most people—except Trip, the chief engineer knew the ship like the back of his hand—but they had checked everywhere that he could think of. It was as if Reed had vanished. He'd looked or had people look in every nook and cranny he could think of. 

And then it hit him. Malcolm would think exactly like he was thinking; he would know exactly where they would look. And he would hide somewhere else…probably somewhere so obvious they would never even think to check. He motioned to the nearest crewman. "Did we check his quarters?"

She hesitated a moment. "I think so, sir. I'm sure we did." But she didn't sound so sure. He sent her back to her own search, and then turned himself to head for Malcolm's room. It was probably nothing; but most people would presume that a fugitive would avoid his own home. They had all assumed he was hiding in the bowels of the ship to avoid detection, and they had probably skipped the most obvious place altogether.

When he arrived at Malcolm's door he drew his weapon and double-checked that it was set to stun. But after seeing what the stun did to Eric, he knew he would be reluctant to use even that.

He opened the door cautiously and ventured inside. It was dark, the only light coming in from the stars through the window. He flipped on the lights and made a quick search of the room. Nothing.

He sighed and went to leave, slightly dejected that he had been wrong. Now he didn't know where to look. 

He exited the room and turned to shut the door, his back to the hallway. One second he was looking at the door lock, the next he felt a sharp pain in the back of his scull. Then he was looking at nothing.

~*~

To Be Continued

__

Note: I am in no way a medical expert. I haven't even had a Biology class in a few years! So while I tried to make it sound realistic and plausible, the medical stuff is really a product of my imagination. It might not be completely accurate.

Please keep reviewing, and thanks to all of you who have been! I love to know that people are enjoying my story! 


	7. Chapter 7

Narcosis: Chapter 7

By Piper

__

See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and other story details.

~*~

Travelling near warp five gets you where you want to go pretty fast. They hadn't been in as big a hurry as they went away from the station, so they were able to cover the distance back in a shorter amount of time.

Malcolm was still missing in action.

As they neared the point where they would drop out of warp, Captain Archer was in the ready room off of the bridge putting the finishing touches on his game plan. He didn't plan on announcing their presence at all. He wanted to be in and out as quickly as possible, hopefully without ruffling any feathers.

He was going himself this time, despite whatever medical protests Phlox could come up with. It had been 24 additional hours and he felt fine. These were his people and he was taking full responsibility for their lives.

Surrounding the table were the six crewmembers he had chosen to go with him. He was taking three crewmen for security. He hated to pull anyone off the search for Malcolm, but it couldn't be helped. He had to work with what he had.

He also wanted a science/medical officer, but he couldn't take Phlox. He wouldn't take the risk of a major medical crisis with Eric or Malcolm erupting while the doctor was away and unable to help them. So the Captain had chosen Ensign Cutler, who had plenty of experience and was more than willing to help.

To expedite the mission he needed someone who had been there before and could take him straight to the lab. There his options were a bit limited. Obviously Malcolm, Eric, and Chelsea were out. He didn't want to take the exhausted Eli away from his brother. And he wanted to leave Trip as well—not just because he was also exhausted, but because he was Malcolm's best friend on this ship and he might be needed to talk him down should a situation arise. That left T'Pol.

That was fine. She, of course, did not seem too rattled by this entire incident, and she was perfect for this mission. But she was also the one he would have left in charge of Enterprise. Trip was next in line, and that left him exhausted, worried and searching for his friend _and_ in charge of the ship should the aliens realize they were back. It wasn't an ideal situation, but it would have to do for the short time they'd be away. At least he would have Travis to back him up, and Hoshi was conscious (if a little out of it) in med-bay if she was needed.

He didn't know exactly where Trip was searching, so Jonathan had summoned him to the bridge with a ship-wide call. He hadn't gotten a response, but he assumed his friend was slightly irked about being pulled away and was grudgingly responding. He expected him to walk into their meeting at any moment.

"We're going straight for the laboratory," he briefed. "Most of the team will be staying outside of the room while Ensign Cutler and I go in for chemical samples. I don't want to risk exposing anyone else, understood? We go in, get what we need, and get out. Any questions?"

None of them spoke up. Cutler had already spoken with Phlox and knew exactly what she needed to do; the others were ready to do whatever was necessary. This mission was all about saving their own people.

"Sir, we're almost there. I'd give it about 15 minutes until we drop out of warp," Travis said from the helm.

"Good. I want us ready to go as soon as we're in position. Get suited up and go on down to the launch bay. I'll be there as soon as I brief Commander Tucker."

__

If he could find Commander Tucker. Where was Trip?

~*~

Consciousness returned slowly. With it came the worst headache Trip had had in a long time. He groaned and slowly opened his eyes to find himself staring up at a familiar ceiling.

He frowned and blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings. He was in his own quarters, in his own bunk. He briefly wondered if he just had a hangover—maybe he had gotten really drunk and had a heck of a nightmare. He pushed himself upright and tried to stand, but the room promptly began to spin crazily. He aborted that move and sat down hard, cradling his head and moaning again. Trip began to probe the source of the pain and winced as his fingers hit the wound. He slowly lowered his hand—which came away sticky with blood. So much for the hangover theory.

"Careful, sir. I think I gave you a concussion."

Trip froze mid-moan and slowly raised his head. Malcolm was sitting in the corner, so still and quiet that Trip had missed him in the dark room. 

He valiantly fought to get through the fuzziness in his brain, knowing that he had to focus here. Malcolm hadn't killed him yet and that was a good sign, but there was no telling what might set him off in his current condition. Trip knew he should tread carefully, but his head felt like it was about to break in two. "What's going on, Malcolm?" he asked as calmly as possible.

"Not much. Although there was a call for you to come to the bridge a few minutes ago."

Good, hopefully that meant that someone had missed him. But this situation was still very _not_ good; he couldn't read Malcolm's frame of mind from his words and he couldn't see him well enough to help at all. "I don't suppose you'd let me answer it. Or at least get an ice pack," he said, wincing as he tenderly touched the back of his head again.

Malcolm spoke as if he hadn't even heard Trip. "You were out for quite a while. I was afraid I might have hit you too hard."

Trip sighed in frustrated pain. "Can I ask why you hit me at all?"

Malcolm stood at that and began to pace slightly. "I'm sorry, sir. You would have found me."

Trip tried to follow the tactical officer with his eyes, but it only made him dizzy. "But you weren't in your quarters. I didn't know where to look next."

"You would have figured it out eventually."

Trip snorted in disbelief. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I wish my scull didn't have to pay the price." He took a few steadying breaths then continued, "And would my finding you have been such a bad thing?"

"You would have taken me into custody, I…I couldn't let that happen. I don't know what I might have done."

"But you know nobody was going to hurt you. We're just tryin' to figure out what's going on here. We're tryin' to help you!"

Malcolm stepped closer in response, finally in light that allowed Trip to get a good look at him. The first thing he noticed was the phase pistol hanging loosely in the grip of his right hand. When he was able to tear his gaze from it to look into Malcolm's face, he was surprised at what he found. The look in his eyes was almost mournful, and the words that went along with it were now clearly dejected. "I know. I didn't want to hurt you, any of you."

Trip sucked in a breath. He knew that look; that was the look that had been in Eric's eyes during the "incident" in engineering. His aching head had egged on his temper, but it dissipated now. It suddenly became extremely important for him to handle Malcolm with care. "The Captain's okay. Hoshi and those guards are gonna be fine too," he said gently. "And none of this is your fault."

Malcolm shook his head and turned to pace again. He obviously wasn't going to be that easy to convince. Trip opened his mouth to explain that it was the chemicals, that Eric and Chelsea had done the same things and more, and that he wanted to help him before he went that far. But he was interrupted before he got any further than "Malcolm—."

The intercom on his wall buzzed. Both of them swung towards it, Trip having to grab his head at the burst of pain as he did so. It buzzed again, and Trip looked to a suddenly more agitated Malcolm. After the third tone, Malcolm seemed to make a decision and motioned with the pistol. "Answer it."

"Sure thing," Trip responded. He then made a valiant attempt to get up and walk across the room while keeping an eye on Malcolm. Unfortunately, his head was still spinning a bit. He stumbled and Malcolm had to step in to help him-'help' being a relative term. The tactical officer switched the pistol to his other hand and gripped Trip's arm roughly, half-dragging him the rest of the way to the intercom. 

Maybe Malcolm wasn't as far into that final stage as he had thought. Trip rested his weight against the wall and shut his eyes to steady himself for a moment before looking to Malcolm. "Thanks for the hand," he said rather sarcastically, belatedly reminding himself he should be nice to the unstable guy with the gun. 

Luckily Malcolm settled for glaring at him before motioning to the intercom again. "Answer."

Trip complied obediently. "This is Commander Tucker."

"Trip, I called you to the bridge. I was getting worried." Trip could pick up on the relief in the Captain's voice.

"Yeah, uh…sorry about that…" 

Malcolm reached up to cut it off. "Tell him you're on your way, that you just had to stop at your quarters for a moment."

Trip started to tell him that the Captain would know he was lying, but before he said a word Archer spoke again. "Trip?" He was worried again.

"Yeah, sorry Cap'n. I'm on my way; I just had to stop by my quarters for something."

There was a pause, and Trip knew that Jonathan was weighing the words. "I called you at least half an hour ago."

"Uh, well…" Trip tried to give Malcolm the impression that he was trying to come up with something, but he was really quite glad for this. Jonathan would know something was up and would come down here to check on him. Of course, then he'd be Malcolm's hostage…

It didn't come to that. After a moment the Captain spoke again. "Trip, did you fall asleep?"

Trip started to roll his eyes, but decided it would hurt his head too much. He had himself in a life and death situation, and his Captain was still trying to get him to sleep. Beside him Malcolm was nodding, obviously saying 'tell him yes.'

"Um, yeah. Guess I was more tired than I realized. Sorry sir."

Trip could hear the smile in his friend's voice. "Don't apologize. You needed it. Do you feel better now?"

"Oh, lots," he lied through his teeth.

"Good. Listen, we're about to drop out of warp. Dr. Phlox thinks he may be able to reverse the effects if he has samples of the chemicals, so I'm taking a team back to the station. I'm about to go suit up now. T'Pol is going with me, so I need you up on the bridge as soon as you can get here. We haven't found Malcolm yet, but don't worry. The crew can handle it; I need you here in case either of our new sets of friends decides to put in an appearance." 

"Sure thing, Cap'n," he said; though he doubted he'd be going anywhere any time soon. Still, it was more important that they get those samples so Phlox could fix this. He needed the Captain to go and not worry about him. He could handle Malcolm for a little while. He just had to pray that the aliens didn't show up wanting to play with him too. "You be careful, okay?" he added.

"Of course. We'll be back soon. Travis is waiting for you up here."

"Okay," he said as cheerfully as he could manage, then cut off the communication before looking to Malcolm. "You hear that? They're going back over there so we can save you."

"No one can save me, Commander." That look was back; the words were soft, matter-of-fact and resigned. He gripped Trip's arm, more gently this time, and helped him back towards the bunk. "Please sit, sir." He deposited the chief engineer on the bed, then turned away to pace again.

Trip sighed, watching the pistol swing in his friend's grip. He hoped the Captain's mission wasn't too long. He had a bad feeling about this.

~*~

To Be Continued


	8. Chapter 8

Narcosis: Chapter 8

By Piper

__

See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and other story details.

~*~

T'Pol led the new away team straight to the stairs and up to the laboratories. Once there, the Captain left her and the three crewmen on guard while he and Cutler went into the lab she specified.

It was a mess. The overturned main table had left few beakers unbroken, but there were a few containers on the floor that still held some liquid. A cabinet near the door held some containers as well, along with a couple of smaller tables spaced around the room. As they moved into the lab, the body on the floor was soon hard to miss.

Cutler glanced at the body, then looked away to begin her work gathering samples. "Phlox told me to be careful not to mix anything. We don't want to cause any new reactions," she commented to him.

As she worked Jonathan knelt beside the body. It was never fun to look at a decomposing corpse, and this one was not pretty. But it was still easier than looking at the still–warm body of a girl he'd known, which he'd been forced to do a few hours earlier. With this one at least he had more of a clinical detachment.

Some of her wounds could have been self-inflicted, but what appeared to be the deathblow wasn't. She had been strangled by someone's bare hands, to the point that her neck had snapped. Had one of the other aliens Trip and T'Pol had found below deck gotten violent enough to do this? Their race might simply be violent in nature; the chemicals might have nothing to do with her death. But if that was the case, it was odd that her body was in _this_ room.

He was reluctant to touch the body, but he thought it might be helpful for Phlox to have a sample of her tissue and blood. He mentioned it to Cutler, who agreed. While she moved around the room collecting samples of every chemical, he hunched over the body and went to work.

He collected what he needed. As he jostled the alien slightly, something fell out of her pocket. He reached for it cautiously. It was a small black device of some sort with green buttons and figures on it. As he turned it over in his glove, he accidentally pressed one of the buttons. He and Cutler both jumped as a female, alien voice suddenly filled the room.

"What is that, sir?" she asked, coming closer.

"I'm not sure," he responded. He glanced up and noticed that T'Pol had moved closer to peer through the clear wall. He gave her a slight wave to indicate that they were okay. She nodded, if a bit doubtfully, and turned back to the crewmen. 

He looked at the object carefully, then tried pushing another button. The voice stopped and it began to make an odd sound. For a moment, he was afraid it was about to blow up. Then Cutler pointed out; "It sounds like it's rewinding."

She was right. He tried the button he was fairly certain had been pushed first and the sound stopped, the voice beginning again. "I think you're right. So where's the stop button?"

He found it a few minutes later and the device stopped emitting any noises at all. She knelt beside him to get a closer look. "So, it's like some sort of alien tape player?"

"Better than that. See this little area and the button right beside it? I think it's a recorder."

She glanced from the body to the device and nodded, catching on. "You think she was keeping a record of whatever they were doing up here?"

"I hope so. Even if it is just a list of chemical experiments, it could be key to figuring some of this out." He reached to tuck it into a side pocket of her sample bag, along with the biological samples from the body. "Thank you," he whispered to the dead alien, then turned back to his Ensign. "How are you doing?"

"Good, sir. I'm almost done. There really aren't that many different chemicals here. And this one," she pointed to a closed container on the floor that hadn't shattered, "appears to be the main mixture of most of the others." The floor around it was covered in the same-colored liquid, so presumably the surrounding beakers had contained the same thing before they broke. She started to open it to obtain a sample, but paused. When he looked at her questioningly, she said, "Maybe we should just take the whole thing. Phlox said no new mixtures; that could include exposing it to oxygen."

Archer nodded. "Good thinking, Ensign." She added the container to her bag and zipped it closed. He took it from her, lifting the strap onto his shoulder. "Are we ready?"

"Yes sir. Let's get out of here."

They turned to go. Suddenly a small figure darted towards them. It went through Cutler's legs, knocking her off balance. Jonathan grabbed an arm to steady her before they both spun to stare at the small creature now cowering in the corner. It was furry and rat-like, though bigger.

"Mickey?" Jonathan whispered.

Beside him, Cutler gave him an odd look. "Sir?"

"The others mentioned a creature like this. It was probably a lab subject," he mused, then put down the bag as he tried to inch closer. It didn't look like a dangerous animal. It stared back at him with wide, frightened eyes and tried to make itself smaller against the wall.

He knelt down, trying to be less threatening. Behind him, Cutler spoke up softly, "He's kind of cute."

"You like mice, Ensign?" he asked, still sliding slightly closer.

"I had three for pets when I was little. But this little guy reminds me more of my rat terrier than the rodents."

It was more the size of a small dog. The Captain cautiously reached out a gloved hand to see its reaction. Sure enough, a small nose came tentatively closer to sniff at his fingers. After a few minutes its long rat-like tail began to swish back and forth, apparently deciding that they weren't a threat and therefore happy to meet them.

"We can't just leave him here by himself, sir."

"I agree." He held out his arms and the creature scuttled into them, its big ears flopping as it moved. He lifted him and turned to hand him to Cutler. When he was settled in her arms he picked up the bag and said, "Let's go."

They left the lab and met up with the others outside. The Captain handed the sample bag to one of the crewmen. T'Pol, meanwhile, took immediate note of the animal. "Captain?" she questioned.

"We found Mickey." When she simply stared at him with raised eyebrows he continued, "We can't just leave him here. He wouldn't survive alone."

"Captain, you do not know anything about this…alien lifeform. It might not be wise to remove it from this habitat."

"We think he's just a lab subject here. And think about it…if they were exposing this animal to the same things that our crew was exposed to, why is he still alive and healthy? He could be important in figuring this out."

"Is there at least a cage to put it in?"

"I'll check," Cutler volunteered, placing the animal back into Jonathan's arms and going back into the lab. The Captain nodded to a crewman, indicating that he should go with her. Even though they had just been in there for a while, this little guy had still surprised them. He preferred playing it safe.

"I don't think he needs a cage," he felt the need to point out to T'Pol.

She was doubtful. "Does it have teeth?"

Archer shrugged, then looked to the creature. "Do you have teeth, Mickey?"

Its response was to stick out a long orange tongue and lick his faceplate. He laughed; T'Pol winced in distaste.

Cutler and the crewman reappeared shortly carrying something that strongly resembled a pet carrier. Mickey was a little reluctant, but after a bit of coaxing they managed to get him in. The crewman volunteered to carry it. 

A few minutes later they were on their way back to the shuttlepod. Archer brought up the rear of the team. Just before he reached the staircase he turned back to cast a last glance at the lab that had been the source of so much suffering for his crew. He prayed that it had also just given them the answers they needed.

~*~

Back on the bridge of the Enterprise, Ensign Mayweather was not observing much activity. No aliens were threatening them with tiny ships; no crazed tactical officer was trying to take over the helm. (Since Malcolm still hadn't been found, he considered this a legitimate concern.) It was a good thing that nothing was happening since Commander Tucker had yet to grace them with his presence.

Travis was tired; too tired to worry about _all_ of his senior officers, but that was the situation he found himself in. Commander Tucker might have his occasional irresponsible moments, but this was out of character.

He decided to try calling his quarters again. When he got no response after the third try, he sighed in frustration and made a decision. With some quick instructions to the secondary bridge crew, he left and headed for Trip's quarters himself.

Reaching the door a few minutes later, he knocked loudly. "Commander, are you in there?"

There was a rather long pause. He was about to give up when he heard, "Travis? Did something happen?"

Travis stared at the door. "Uh…no sir, everything's quiet. We just got a little worried when you didn't show up. Are you okay in there?"

"I'm fine. I'll be up in a minute."

Yeah, he'd heard that one before. Something didn't feel right here. "Are you sure? Maybe I could come in for a minute…"

"It's not a good time, Ensign. Go back to the bridge, I'll be there shortly."

Travis thought his Commander was acting more than a little weird, but at least he was alive and in one piece. And he had given him an order. Though something still felt off about all of this, one of them needed to be on the bridge. "Yes sir," he called through the door, then turned to go.

"Hey Travis, how's that crewman that was involved in the thing with Eric earlier?"

He turned back for a moment. "Uh…she's fine, sir." She'd been fine. She was never hurt. Why would he ask about Eric's hostage instead of Eric himself? _He_ was the one in bad shape.

He got halfway down the corridor before it clicked.

Hostage.

He froze in his tracks and spun back to stare at the closed door. Why would the Commander bring up the hostage unless…what if Trip wasn't alone in there? That was one place he doubted anyone had thought to look for Malcolm. Trip was trying to give him a clue without saying anything outright. If he was Malcolm's hostage, it would certainly explain his behavior.

This could be bad. Travis had handled unhappy aliens before, but one senior officer holding another hostage was new for him.

He went through options in his head. He discarded the idea of trying to storm into Trip's quarters by himself right then and there. He'd probably get himself and Trip killed if he tried it. He decided that this needed more thought, and more heads helping with a plan. He ran back to the bridge.

He got there just in time to hear T'Pol's transmission end. He was informed that the team had just reached the shuttlepod and was on the way back. Their mission had been quite successful, by the sound of it. 

They'd be docking in a few minutes. That was great for Mayweather; he'd let the Captain decide how to handle this new situation. It was a reprieve for him, but not for Commander Tucker.

He just hoped Trip could hold on until his Captain could help him.

~*~

To Be Continued


	9. Chapter 9

Narcosis: Chapter 9

By Piper

__

See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and other story details.

~*~

Eli West gripped his brother's hand, stared intensely at his closed eyes, and willed him to wake up.

It didn't work. He hadn't really expected it to. But he'd grown tired of talking about mundane things as if they were having a normal conversation; he was tired of getting no response.

There had been no change in Eric. Dr. Phlox didn't think that there would be until he was given some sort of antidote, but that didn't stop Eli from hoping that those eyes would open at any moment.

He leaned closer and began speaking again. "Eric, I know you can hear me. You know how I hate it when you ignore me." He tried to smile at his weak attempt at humor, but it wasn't working. "Please, big brother…I need you. You can't leave me now, not after all that we've gone through to get here. I can't do this without you," he finished in a whisper. Of course, he got no response.

He was so focused on his brother that he'd tuned out everything around them, so when a gentle hand was laid on his shoulder he nearly jumped out of his skin.

He turned to find Hoshi standing beside him. "How's he doing?" she asked softly.

"The same," he sighed in response. Then he smiled humorlessly, "You know, it's funny. I just told him how I hate it when he ignores me. But right now I'd give anything to have him conscious, even if he was paying no attention to me whatsoever."

She smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "I'll be sure to tell him that when he wakes up."

He thought about that for a second and then actually laughed. "Great, then he can remind me of it every time I'm annoying him! I'll never get him to listen again!"

She laughed with him; both of them releasing some stress and tension. Dr. Phlox came over to join them. "I'm glad to see you both in better spirits," he said with a smile of his own. "I have some good news for you. The Captain and his team are in decontamination right now and I'm told that the mission was quite successful. They're bringing the sample straight here. We will hopefully have a solution to all of this soon."

He spoke the truth; about fifteen minutes later the Captain, Ensign Cutler, and a crewman entered carrying spoils of their mission. Archer and Cutler spoke to the doctor while the crewman placed some sort of cage on an examining table. Eli watched as Elizabeth pulled sample containers from her bag and handed them to Phlox. Shortly there was some gesturing to the cage, and Phlox nodded and said something, actually sticking a finger through the bars. He pulled them back out intact, prompting Hoshi to say; "I wonder what they brought back."

They continued to watch as the crewman was dismissed and Phlox and Cutler turned to begin working with the samples. Captain Archer spotted the two of them watching the events and came over to them.

"Hoshi, how are you feeling?" he said in greeting.

"As good as new, Captain," she said with a smile.

"Good. I brought you a souvenir." He handed her a small black and green device, pressing a button as he did so that produced an alien dialect being dictated by a female voice. Eli could have sworn that he saw Hoshi's eyes actually light up. "We think it's something of a tape recorder. See what you can make of it," the Captain instructed with a smile.

She nodded absently and walked off, her attention focused on the recorder and figuring out which buttons did what. 

The Captain watched her leave, still smiling and shaking his head affectionately. Then he turned back to Eli. "How are you two doing?" he asked, including the comatose Eric in his glance.

Eli gave him a weak smile. "Hanging on, sir."

Jonathan nodded. "Keep hanging. We're going to figure this out now," he said softly. Then he walked towards the cage they had sat in the middle of the room. "In the meantime," he said, opening the door and pulling something fuzzy out, "See if you can entertain this little guy until the doctor needs him."

Eli stared at the creature in the Captain's arms. "Is that…"

Archer nodded. "Mickey," he said with a smile. "We think this is the same animal Eric and the others saw before. You named him; so it seems only fair that you should get to know him first."

Eli held his arms out as the Captain reached to place Mickey in them. He and the big mouse stared at each other uncertainly for a moment. 

Archer spoke again, "Don't worry, he hasn't shown any dangerous qualities. Doctor Phlox recognized his species and says that they're usually quite tame. He doesn't even have teeth."

Eli tilted his head closer to Mickey's, looking curiously at his mouth. Suddenly an orange tongue shot out, licking him on the nose. He pulled back abruptly and wrinkled his nose. 

The Captain laughed. "He does, however, have a rather long tongue. I think he likes you."

"Thanks, sir," Eli said with a touch of sarcasm, but he smiled at the critter as it nestled against him.

At that moment, Ensign Mayweather entered through the main sickbay doors. He spotted Captain Archer and made a beeline for them.

Jonathan greeted him, "Travis, have you and Trip been holding down the fort?"

Travis faltered for a moment, then said, "Well, I have. Sir, I think we have a problem."

The Captain narrowed his gaze, immediately picking up on the insinuation in Travis's statement. "Is something wrong with Trip?"

"Well I can't really be sure, but he never showed up on the bridge. I went to his quarters looking for him. He was in there and he was talking to me, but he wouldn't open the door. I thought it was strange."

"That's not like Trip," Archer mused.

"No, I didn't think so. But then he said something that helped it make a little more sense. He mentioned the crewman that Eric took hostage earlier." He let the words sink in, seeing that the Captain's line of thought went exactly where his had, and then finished, "I think he may have found Malcolm."

Jonathan drew in a deep breath and shut his eyes. Eli felt his own eyes widen in shock as he looked from Travis to the Captain. Lieutenant Reed was holding Commander Tucker hostage?

~*~

Trip was ready for this nightmare to be over now.

Unfortunately that wasn't really his decision. Malcolm had control of this situation, and he didn't seem too anxious to give it up any time soon.

Trip had taken to leaning against the wall beside his bunk, resting his still aching head back against it. He kept a wary eye on the shape he knew was Malcolm. The tactical officer had retreated back to the dark corner of the room, phase pistol still in hand.

He didn't know anything about Eric's situation, so he hadn't understood Trip's veiled hint to Travis. Still, he hadn't liked that Trip had strayed from the dictated script, and the pistol that had been pointed vaguely at his head had found it's way to the skin covering his carotid artery. Trip had shut up and been grateful for Travis's footsteps going away from the room. Then he'd told his captor that a crewman had been injured in engineering and he was simply worried about her; he obviously hadn't had time to check on her since he'd been in here. Malcolm had still looked at him suspiciously, but the pistol had slowly pulled away from his throat.

And now, they were right back where they'd started from, with the slight exception of Trip being conscious. He hated this. He wanted to get Malcolm some help and get himself an aspirin. He could only pray that Travis had figured out the hint, and that the young helmsman would proceed carefully but quickly. Malcolm wasn't progressing as fast as the others had, and Trip wasn't sure whether to be more concerned about what Malcolm might do to him or what Malcolm might do to himself. Either way, he would prefer not to be trapped with few options.

But Malcolm was being so quiet. He should probably be happy that he was calm, but it was unnerving. He sighed, then risked saying, "Will you tell me something?"

"What?" came a quiet response.

"What are you thinking about right now?"

There was a long silence, then, "I'm sorry I hit you."

That wasn't what he'd been expecting. "It's okay. I think I'm gonna live," he joked softly. "I forgive you."

At that, Malcolm pushed himself out of the shadows and went back to his pacing. "Why?"

"Why do I forgive you?" he asked a bit incredulously. Malcolm nodded jerkily as he went past, obviously expecting an answer. Trip found himself searching for the right one. "You're my friend. And you're not yourself. It wasn't really your fault.

"Really, because I seem to recall taking the butt of this pistol and slamming it into the back of your scull with a considerable amount of force."

Trip grew tired of following the Ping-Pong motion with his eyes. "Hey Mal, why don't you sit down here? You're making me dizzy."

Malcolm stopped mid-pace to stare at him, then slowly complied. As he settled gingerly beside the engineer, pistol in the hand furthest from Trip, he asked, "What did you just call me?"

"Mal. It's a nickname," he shrugged. He didn't really know where that had come from; it just seemed like a good idea to show a familiarity and affection so that Malcolm might remember that he was his friend. Then he might not be so apt to kill him. "What, you don't like it?"

There was a rather lengthy pause, then "It's fine. My sister used to call me that when we were little. She's the only one who ever gave me a nickname."

To someone who went by a nickname on a regular basis, that was a little surprising. Trip said, "Well then, it's about time you had one again." That actually earned him a little smile. 

But it was gone too quickly. Malcolm shook his head, staring at some point on the far wall. "I suppose most parents give their child some sort of nickname, don't they? Mine never seemed to care that much."

Trip glanced at him sharply. This might be a normal feeling for his friend, and under other circumstances his willingness to talk about it would be great. But right then, the last thing Trip wanted was a depressing topic that might send Malcolm over the edge. "I think most parents are far from perfect," he said sympathetically. "But it sounds like you and your sister were close," he added, trying to steer towards a safer topic.

"Not really. We got along all right, but we were never really that close. I've never really been that close to anyone."

Trip mentally kicked himself. Malcolm had told him this before during their little adventure on the shuttlepod, though he'd hoped it was more of a reaction to their situation than the way he really felt about himself. Apparently not. But now that Trip was thinking about that conversation, he remembered something else Malcolm had told him.

"What about us? You told me a couple of months ago that this crew was becoming like a family for you."

Malcolm's eyes went cold. "I was wrong. It happens." He stood again, walking away. "No one cares about me here."

"You know that's not true," Trip responded emphatically. He pushed himself off the bunk as well, then had to pause for a moment while his vision blurred and then cleared again. When he refocused, Malcolm was looking at him from a few feet away. "This isn't you talking. You're not well, Malcolm."

"What, after all that you just said, now you're going to tell me I'm insane?" He was waving his hands, the pistol naturally going along. 

Trip winced as it waved in his direction. "No! You're not crazy; you're sick. This crew is trying to find a way to help you. The Captain's out there right now, risking his life for you."

Malcolm was shaking his head in denial.

"Yes, he is. You heard him; he took a crew back to the station. You remember the station?"

"Of course I remember!" Malcolm snapped. The pistol stopped waving and leveled at Trip's chest. 

The chief engineer sucked in a breath, then tread forward carefully. "You were exposed to something at the station, Mal. That's why you're acting like this. That's why you feel the way you do right now."

Malcolm again shook his head, but less emphatically. 

Trip could tell he was at least listening to what was being said. He softened his voice and said gently, "It's gonna be okay." He stepped closer.

Suddenly, there was a light knock on the door. They both jerked towards it. The Captain's voice came through, "Trip?"

Trip recovered from his surprise and looked to Malcolm, who was still looking at the door—and had swung the gun towards it. He made a split second decision in the instant that Malcolm started to turn back.

He lunged for the pistol.

~*~

To Be Continued


	10. Chapter 10

Narcosis: Chapter 10

By Piper

__

See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and other story details. In addition, this chapter has some small spoilers for "Strange New World."

~*~

Captain Jonathan Archer could hear the struggle on the other side of the door, but he couldn't yet get to Trip and Malcolm. He looked to the crewman beside him, who felt his gaze and glanced back. "Almost got it, sir."

It was another agonizingly long moment before they managed to force the door open. Jonathan rushed in and turned on the lights—just in time to see Malcolm haul Trip upright. The engineer looked disoriented and dizzy. It was entirely too easy for Malcolm to maneuver him into position like a shield. In his right hand, the tactical officer held a phase pistol.

The crewman had followed the Captain in and now brought his pistol up to aim at Malcolm. "Drop the weapon, sir," he instructed.

Malcolm looked at the crewman for a moment, then brought his eyes to meet the Captain's Jonathan froze as he proceeded to pull the phase pistol up, pointing it directly at Trip's head. "Get out, sir," came the terse demand.

Archer found himself bringing his hands up, trying to appear non-threatening. "Take it easy, Malcolm. We don't want anyone to get hurt here."

"Leave, and no one will."

Trip opened pain-filled eyes to meet Jonathan's gaze. The Captain knew at that point that he wasn't going anywhere. He motioned for the crewman to leave and made as if he was following him out. At the last moment, as the crewman crossed the threshold in front of him, Jonathan gripped his arm and turned him around. "Go to the bridge. Tell Sub Commander T'Pol what's going on."

"Sir?" the confused crewman asked.

"Go," Jonathan said, then abruptly closed the door between them. He turned back to face his officers. Trip was looking at him with a combination of relief and admonishment. Relieved that he wasn't alone in this, but unhappy that Jonathan was once again risking his life for Trip. Jonathan returned a look that clearly told his friend to get over it; Trip should know him better than to think that he would ever hesitate to risk his life for him.

Malcolm, on the other hand, was seriously ticked off. "You too, sir. Get out!" he demanded again, voice rising with each word.

"Hey, Cap'n," Trip chimed in weakly, surprising them both and trying to offer a distraction. "Would you please explain to my buddy here that a man can only take so many blows to the head before somethin' gets knocked loose?"

"Shut up," Malcolm commanded, shoving the pistol barrel against his hostage's temple. Trip winced. Jonathan started to take a step closer, but Malcolm's attention abruptly swung back to him. "Leave!" he ordered again.

"Easy, take it easy Malcolm." Jonathan heard the desperation in his own voice and took a few calming breaths as he watched Malcolm's finger tense over the trigger. He inched a bit closer as he spoke again, "You and I both know that I'm not going anywhere as long as you're threatening Trip's life."

"Because he's your friend. Because you care about him."

The Captain wasn't sure where this was going, but as he took another step closer he responded honestly, "Yes."

"Well, isn't that just dandy for him. What about the rest of us?"

"Malcolm, I care about every member of this crew," he responded succinctly.

"But not like him. He's like family. The rest of us are interchangeable; you only 'care' because it would reflect badly on you if you lost one of us."

"What?! That's crazy!" Jonathan exclaimed before he could censor himself. It _was_ crazy, and Malcolm in his right mind would have known that. But Malcolm under the influence of an alien substance obviously thought otherwise. He took a deep breath to calm himself before he spoke again. "Yes, Trip is important to me. I've known him for a long time and we've been through a lot together. But every person on this ship is now a part of my extended family, and that includes you. I care very much about what happens here."

Trip spoke up again. "I tried to tell him that this isn't his fault or even his real feelings." He glanced sideways at the pistol. "But I don't think he believed me."

"Malcolm, Trip's telling you the truth."

Malcolm narrowed his eyes and stared at his Captain, but said nothing.

Jonathan pressed forward, "Why would he lie to you? He's your friend. He wants to get you through this, just like I do."

This time Malcolm shook his head in denial. "No, I don't believe you."

"It's true," Trip insisted. "And you know it in your heart. You just gotta get past the stuff that's clouding your brain."

Malcolm looked between them, and for a moment they thought they might have actually gotten through. Then he said calmly, "No. No one here cares about me." He paused, then gave a sad smile. "But that's all right. I'm used to it. No one ever did."

With that, Malcolm finally turned the pistol away from Trip. He shoved the engineer away from him to the floor at the Captain's feet. Jonathan reached down to help Trip up and had to hold onto him as he swayed. Then he tried to pull Trip behind him where he could better protect him. But his friend was not cooperating, because he saw what Malcolm was doing now. He had aimed the pistol someplace new.

At his own head.

Both of them reacted. "Malcolm, don't," Trip cried as he and Jonathan both took a few involuntary steps closer to him.

"Don't come any closer!" Malcolm ordered, clicking the setting on the pistol. Both of them froze as they saw he had changed it to 'kill.' They had a few seconds to realize that he had only had it on stun this whole time—he had never intended to kill Trip. But that didn't mean as much now, since he was obviously ready to kill himself.

Jonathan was at a loss. Malcolm wasn't hearing them, and he didn't know what they could say to make him start listening. 

Luckily, Trip still had a few cards to play. "Malcolm, I've been where you are right now. Remember? Only I was pointing the gun at T'Pol and accusing her of talking to rock people. But I was under the influence of something too." He paused, stepping closer until he was only a foot away from Reed. "This isn't you. You're not yourself! You said that you remember the station and what happened over there, right?"

Malcolm still wasn't buying it. "The doctor cleared us."

"Yeah, well, the doctor was wrong. Thomas and West went through the same thing you're going through now."

"Malcolm." The Captain waited until the younger man's eyes focused on him, then he said succinctly; "Chelsea is dead. She slit her wrists."

Malcolm seemed to be processing that. "Dead?" he asked softly.

Archer nodded. "And Eric is in a coma. This chemical you all were exposed to—it's making you feel this way and do these things. We went back to the station for chemical samples, and Dr. Phlox is going to have a cure for this soon. Meanwhile, Eric showed us that you do still have some amount of control."

Trip picked up the argument. "You can fight it, Mal. You have to fight it."

Malcolm was clearly torn. The pistol remained at his temple, but he looked at the floor, thinking things through. When he looked back up at them silent tears began to fall from his eyes. "She's really dead?" he asked weakly.

"Yes," Jonathan said softly, keeping Malcolm's attention as Trip edged a few inches closer. "She had so much of her life left and so much to offer to this world. It was a needless and horrible death. We're not going to lose you that way."

"You don't want to do this. _We_ don't want you to do this." Trip was close enough now, and reached a slightly unsteady hand towards the pistol. The closer his fingers drew, the more the weapon shook in Malcolm's hand. 

Jonathan didn't dare move. The tension and fear in the room were palpable. Trip's actions seemed as if they were in slow motion. He found himself holding his breath as Trip's fingers finally made contact with the pistol…

And he slowly pulled it away from Malcolm's head.

The Captain finally dared to breathe as Malcolm released the gun altogether and let Trip take its weight. Jonathan stepped closer, taking the gun when Trip held it out to him. He secured it before tucking it safely away.

Malcolm still had tears running uncontrolled down his cheeks. Suddenly it was as if his knees gave out, and both Trip and the Captain quickly grabbed an arm to lower him to the floor.

Trip knelt beside him as Malcolm began whispering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over again. He was still conscious, but he wasn't fully coherent. 

Being cautious and deliberately slow with his movements, Trip reached to put gentle arms around his friend. He pulled him close, allowing Malcolm's tears to fall on his shoulder. "Shh, everything's gonna be fine now," he whispered, trying to comfort.

Jonathan knelt beside the two of them, placing a hand on Trip's shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, catching Trip's eyes. One close look at the uneven pupils told him that the engineer had a concussion.

But Trip just shrugged slightly, still holding Malcolm. "My brains may be a little scrambled, but I'll live," he joked before growing serious. "Was all of that true, is Phlox really close to curing this thing?"

"I hope so. Do we need a med-team here?"

Trip considered it a moment before shaking his head. "I think we can get him to sickbay ourselves. The less people around him right now, the better."

The Captain nodded, then patted Malcolm's back gently and left him to Trip as he stood to head to the room's intercom. "Archer to the bridge."

"Go ahead, Captain," came T'Pol's voice.

"We're okay—all of us. We're going to take Lt. Reed to sickbay."

~*~

Meanwhile, Dr. Phlox and Ensign Cutler had taken up residence in a decontamination room with the samples she had obtained from the station.

Were the situation not so dire, Dr. Phlox would have been like a human child in a candy store with all his new chemicals to manipulate and explore. But the circumstances demanded that he figure out the cause of this reaction in the crew as quickly as possible. With that purpose in mind, he had focused his attention on what he perceived to be the most likely culprit—the chemical mixture in the sealed container.

Both he and the ensign were decked out in full environmental suits. They had latex gloves on underneath the gloves of the suits. He wasn't taking any chances, which was why he had moved lab equipment into the decon chamber. He didn't want to risk exposure to any other crewmembers.

Cutler had told him why she had left this container sealed, and he thought she really might be on to something. So they had put the container into the closed environment of a sterile glass incubator and sucked the oxygen out. Then they had transferred some of the mixture to another beaker before pulling the original container out. 

Phlox handed the closed container to Cutler. "Ensign, take this out of the room please. Wait out there until I call you."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" she asked teasingly, though she moved to do as she was told.

"If this does what I think it's going to do, I'd rather not have you at risk," he explained.

After she was safely outside, he introduced oxygen to the sample he had. The response was immediate. A hazy smoke formed in the box and soon engulfed it. When he noticed the gloves attached to the hand holes beginning to disintegrate, he too hastened out of the room before the chemical could escape its confines.

Outside, he sealed the chamber. He and Cutler both watched through the observation window as the haze filled the entire room. "I guess we found the substance they were exposed to," she mused.

"It would appear so."

A few minutes later, the smoke dissipated. "That's odd," she pointed out.

"Not really. The reaction could only last so long. If you recall, by the time Commander Tucker and Sub Commander T'Pol got to the others, the environment was safe again."

"At least that's something. So what's our next step?"

He reached to take the container from her. "We figure out what's in this and how to counteract it. We do it without exposing it to oxygen. And we do it in time to save Ensign West and Lieutenant Reed."

~*~

To Be Continued


	11. Chapter 11

Narcosis: Chapter 11

By Piper

__

See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and other story details. 

~*~

"Commander, be still!"

Trip quit squirming for about three seconds as Ensign Cutler probed the back of his head. Then he winced and pulled away again, causing her to sigh.

"Sir, you have a serious cut back here. I need to close it."

Trip wasn't really looking forward to that, but he shrugged and said, "Sure, whatever." His attention had been drawn to the bed beside him and what Dr. Phlox currently had in his hands. "You don't need those," he said, displeasure in his tone. "He's not violent anymore."

Dr. Phlox looked up from the task of placing restraints on Malcolm's wrists. "I believed that last time, Commander. I don't like to use these either, but I cannot take the risk of him injuring anyone else or running off again. Surely you understand that."

Trip stared at him in frustration for a moment before giving in. "Yeah," he admitted reluctantly. That didn't make it any less painful to watch. 

The curtain was drawn partially around Malcolm's bed, though not separating him from Trip. Outside the curtain stood an armed crewman, while another two were positioned just outside of sickbay. They were afraid of a repeat performance from earlier, though one look at Malcolm made the worry seem unnecessary.

Malcolm wasn't resisting. On the contrary, he was submitting contritely to everything. Trip and the Captain had had to support him on the way to sickbay, but he hadn't fought them at all. Now he was lying listlessly on the bed, allowing Phlox to strap limp limbs to the table.

He was still conscious, which placed him in better shape than Eric. But he had withdrawn from everything around him, speaking nothing more than the occasional whispered, "I'm sorry." Trip wondered if he was even aware of his surroundings and the people who were trying to help him.

With his attention on his friend, the engineer hadn't noticed Cutler coming back. When she reached for the wound again, he jumped and hissed in pain. "Sorry, sir," she offered. It would have meant more of she hadn't immediately launched into the process of closing the cut. He bit his lip against the pain, distracting himself by watching Phlox tighten the last restraint around Malcolm's left ankle.

As he finished with Malcolm, the doctor came towards Trip. "Now Commander, you have a concussion. You need to rest," he said pointedly. "I really must insist that you stay right here on this bed. Someone will be along to wake you every hour to check your awareness."

"I'm not going anywhere, Doc," Trip said wearily. 

Phlox offered him a smile. "Good. Now, if Ensign Cutler is finished putting your head back together, the two of us will get back to work. I believe we are close to an antidote of sorts."

From behind Trip, Ensign Cutler responded with a "Yes, doctor," before helping Trip lie down. As the two medical personnel moved away, Trip rolled onto his side so that he could keep an eye on Malcolm. The tactical officer was silent and still, but awake as he stared up at the ceiling.

Trip decided to try some communication again now that they were alone. "Malcolm?" he called softly.

Malcolm didn't move his head or his gaze. He did whisper another "I'm sorry" that could have been in response.

"You don't have to be sorry," Trip whispered back, even though he wasn't sure he was being addressed. 

Malcolm didn't reply, but Trip saw a tear trickle down his cheek.

"It's okay, Mal. It's okay," Trip offered softly in an attempt at comfort.

A few more tears escaped his eyes. But Malcolm never gave him any more of a response.

~*~

Captain Jonathan Archer sighed heavily and rubbed his temples against the encroaching headache. It had been a long day, and it wasn't over yet. Dr. Phlox was fairly certain he was close to curing this thing, but the Captain wouldn't be able to relax until his two infected crewmen were back on their feet again.

In the meantime, he and T'Pol had agreed that it was best to get out of the planet's immediate space. Even though there had been no sign that they had been detected, he preferred to keep a quiet profile. They had moved away, far enough to avoid detection should anyone actually look but close enough to return easily if necessary.

He sank into the Captain's chair and leaned his head back, closing his eyes briefly against the minimal bridge activity.

"Captain?"

He reluctantly forced his eyes back open to focus on the woman who'd come to stand in front of him. "Yes Hoshi?"

"I've translated the message on the tape recorder you found."

He came fully alert and noticed T'Pol and Travis tuning into the conversation as well. "Anything interesting?"

"Yes, sir. I was expecting pure research notes, but this is really more like a diary. It was almost as if she was composing a book. Which is great, because she talks about the situation on the planet and how she feels about what they were doing on the station. It answers a lot of questions."

"By all means, continue," he encouraged.

"From what I can gather, there are two races on their planet. Their race, the green-skinned ones, are the minority, and by that I mean that they are outnumbered something like 100 to 1. Still, they used to be in power, until the others organized a rebellion. She never states the reason and we're obviously getting a biased point of view, but I suspect the green-skinned aliens were sort of tyrannical and not exactly kind to the others."

"Do we have names for these races?" T'Pol questioned.

"She never uses them. She mostly talks in terms of 'us' and 'them,' or 'the others.' She does use slang for the others, but it doesn't translate into anything that should really be spoken aloud on a bridge," Hoshi responded. "Anyhow, this rebellion seems to have taken place some time ago. The green-skinned ones were forced underground and have been plotting a way to take power back since.

"The station was built and in operation before the rebellion. The other race is significantly less advanced, and they never even knew the station was there. Their communications aren't as strong and their space technology is almost backwards in comparison."

"Hence the tiny ship and the lack of response to our hails," Archer mused. "But if the green ones could communicate with their station, shouldn't they have contacted us sooner?"

"Apparently they can only communicate at certain times during the day when the planet is in the right position. The station orbits at a different rate or something. Their people are mainly concentrated in one place where the others can't intercept their transmissions, but it limits their ability to communicate with the station."

"So it would be very difficult for the aliens on the station to get back to the planet without detection. How long had the inhabitants been living on that station?" Travis asked.

"Apparently they could get a supply ship in and out every once in a while. But most of them had been there for generations," she responded. "There were children living there."

"But we didn't find any children, or many adults for that matter," T'Pol put in.

"No. I think there were a few more bodies that you and Commander Tucker didn't find, but most of them got out. But I'm getting ahead of the story. Originally that station was there for some kind of experiments that they didn't want to do on the planet. But after they received news of the rebellion, they began looking for some way to turn the tables on a huge number of people."

"So they created a biological agent," Jonathan supplied.

"Yes, sir. But it's taken years to refine it to do the damage they wanted it to do."

"Does she talk about it in detail?" the Captain asked hopefully. The more they knew about it, the better.

Hoshi looked at him apologetically. "No sir. I'm sorry; she didn't know that many details about the actual chemicals. She wasn't even a scientist; she was an engineer. But her husband was one of the scientists working with this agent directly, so she knew a little about it, but it's mostly stuff we've already figured out. She mentions that it was intended to be a gas that dissipated quickly. It's designed to make the enemy turn on each other and even themselves. It has stages that progress in a victim. And one thing we didn't know—it was designed to attack the female system or a younger male more quickly. Apparently most of the actual soldiers on the other side are female or fairly young men."

"So what happened on the station to make their great weapon destroy them?" Travis asked.

"Her entries are shorter and more emotional after this point. But she says that there was some sort of accident in the lab. Apparently the inhabitants who weren't working directly on this chemical didn't understand exactly what would happen, because they took off using most of the life pods. The scientists were left, and they were all infected. Well, except for her. She was left behind because she was outside the station doing repair work. By the time she got back in, most of the people had gone and she was trapped with a group of infected men and women. She tried calling for help. She got no answer."

"She got one. It just came too late," Archer said softly.

T'Pol spoke up, "Captain, we most likely couldn't have done anything even if we were here earlier." 

"What kind of people would just abandon their friends when they were in trouble?" Travis asked.

"I think that's just the nature of their race," Hoshi answered.

Jonathan posed a different question, "Why would they create something they couldn't cure? What were they planning to do if they got exposed?"

Hoshi responded, "That's the part of the story that is so heart-wrenching. They had been developing a cure and testing it on the lab animals. But the ones who were infected didn't care to be cured, and she didn't know enough to synthesize it or even pick it out of a cabinet. She had to watch a few of them kill each other and at least one kill himself by swallowing a bunch of chemicals. She was going to try to convince her husband to tell her how to cure him." She paused for a moment before finishing, "That's her last entry. I think her husband killed her."

There was a moment of silence as they all considered it. 

Finally the Captain said, "Let's just pray that Dr. Phlox can find a way to reverse what these people created."

~*~

"We've got it! Don't we?"

Dr. Phlox held his response until after he had watched his new concoction finish interacting with the one Cutler had obtained from the station. As the new one completely neutralized the other, he allowed himself a smile and answered the Ensign. "Yes, I believe we do."

They'd found traces of a foreign chemical in the blood of the lab animal that everyone had taken to calling "Mickey." That, combined with the knowledge of the chemical mixture that had caused this, had been enough for him to engineer an antidote. And it appeared to be working.

"Neither of them are doing well, Doctor. West's vital signs have been dropping. Are we ready to administer this?"

He hesitated. He had tested it adequately, but normally he would have tested it even more before injecting it into a human body. But he was working with a time crunch here. 

He took a deep breath and said, "Let's try it."

~*~

To Be Continued


	12. Chapter 12

Narcosis: Chapter 12

By Piper

__

See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and other story details. 

~*~

Eli West hadn't moved more than a few feet from his brother's side for hours. And his brother hadn't moved at all.

Eli didn't know what else he could be doing. It was incredibly frustrating to have nothing to do but sit, hold Eric's hand, and talk about nothing.

Things in sickbay got more interesting when the Captain and Commander Tucker came in supporting Lieutenant Reed. Eli didn't know exactly what had happened with the Lieutenant before he was brought into sickbay, but whatever it was it had shaken the Commander a bit. He spent a good amount of time after the doctor left them trying to comfort Malcolm. 

The curtain around Eric's bed was only partially drawn, so Eli could easily see what was going on. He didn't interrupt. It was heart wrenching to watch as Trip helplessly spoke to his distraught friend, who didn't appear to be hearing him. Eli wondered if that was what he looked like speaking to his comatose big brother. 

Malcolm eventually went to sleep or lapsed into unconsciousness; Eli wasn't sure which. Trip continued to watch his friend for a few minutes after that before he sighed and rolled over onto his back. At that point he noticed that Eli was watching him from a few beds away. "Hey kid," he called softly.

"Hi sir," Eli returned. After a pause and a glance at his oblivious brother, he pushed off of his chair and made his way to the Commander's bed. "Are you okay?" he asked as he drew closer.

"Got a little bump on the head. I'll be fine."

"I see you found Lieutenant Reed."

"Yeah." Trip cast a glance back to Malcolm and sighed, then changed the subject. "How's your brother?"

"Elizabeth—I mean Ensign Cutler—said that his vitals were dropping." Eli sighed, trying to keep his voice steady. "I hate this, sir. I feel like I'm just sitting by watching him die." Whoa. He hadn't meant to say that. He'd come over here to check on Trip and Malcolm, not to burden the Commander with his problems. "Sorry, sir," he whispered, then started to back away. "I should let you rest."

"Hey, get back over here," Trip insisted. He waited until Eli complied to go on, "I know this is hard for you. But none of this is your fault, and there's nothin' you can do. Believe me I know how it feels—I know it sucks." Eli couldn't help but smile at his superior officer telling him that something sucked. Trip smiled at seeing his smile, then sobered and said, "What you're doin'—sittin' with him and talkin' to him—is the best thing you can do. I believe that he can hear you, no matter how deep he is in that coma. You have to believe that too."

Eli nodded slightly, though he was still frustrated with the situation. He appreciated the fact that Trip was in a similar situation with Malcolm and was grateful for the Commander's attempt at comfort. But he knew that nothing was going to make him feel better until his brother opened his eyes and spoke to him.

They were both startled a moment later when the curtain around Malcolm's bed was pulled back to reveal a smiling Dr. Phlox. "Commander, Ensign…I believe we have it."

He didn't need to explain. Trip and Eli shared a hopeful glance, then looked back to the doctor. "Well, what are you waitin' for, Doc? Give it to them!" Trip exclaimed.

They watched with anxious hope as Phlox filled a syringe with some murky colored substance and injected it into Malcolm's arm. The lieutenant didn't even wake at the sharp prick. Eli determined at that point that he was unconscious, not just asleep. Eli and Trip stared at Malcolm. Dr. Phlox noticed their attention and put in, "It won't work immediately. We probably won't see any change for a couple of hours."

Trip stared at him for a beat. "So you got us all excited, and now you're tellin' us we have to wait again?"

"Sorry. Commander, you are supposed to be resting anyhow," Phlox chastised as he walked away from them and towards Eric. He called back, "You sleep; we'll wake you if something happens."

"Yeah, they'll wake me alright. Every hour, on the hour, to ask me my name and make sure my brain doesn't decide to go on vacation without me," Trip mumbled, but he tried to relax back into the pillow as he spoke.

"I'll let you rest, sir," Eli said with a smile. "I'm going to go back and sit with Eric."

"Take it easy, kid," Trip instructed.

"Yes, sir." Eli went back to Eric's side as Phlox injected him with the chemical. A few minutes later he looked back at the Commander. Trip had finally given into his exhaustion and fallen asleep.

~*~

"Commander?"

Trip awoke from his fitful sleep at the voice. He groaned slightly, then didn't even bother to open his eyes. He automatically recited the same answers he'd given the last 3 times he'd been awakened. "Charles Tucker III. Commander. Starship Enterprise. From Earth. Would you like to know my shoe size, too?" he tagged on sarcastically. He knew it was important for his own health that they wake him and check his awareness. But it was getting old.

This time, however, he got no response. Beginning to think he'd imagined the voice, he forced his eyes open and looked around for the source. There was no one nearby. No one except, of course, for Malcolm in the next bed…whoa. Something was different. He swung his gaze back to Malcolm and realized that his friend had his eyes open and was looking at him—and smiling slightly. "Malcolm?"

Malcolm's smile grew. "Thank you for the information, sir, but I already know all of that. Well, except for your shoe size. I suppose that will have to remain a mystery."

Not only was he awake, he was getting cheeky. His voice was feeble, but this had to be a good sign of progress. Trip's return smile lit up his face as he pushed himself into a sitting position. "You're awake," he said jubilantly. "How do you feel?"

Malcolm had to take a few moments to think about it. "Okay…a little weak," he said finally. "What happened?"

Trip stared at him. "You don't remember?"

Malcolm just continued to look confused. He tried to move his hand, but discovered that he couldn't. Trip saw a hint of fear come into his friend's eyes as he realized he was in restraints. "What are these for?" he asked, voice shaky.

Trip wasn't really sure what answer to give to that. He was about to go call for the doctor when Phlox saved him the trouble by appearing at the edge of the curtain. "Well, I thought I heard voices back here," the Denobulan said cheerfully. "Are you feeling better lieutenant?" he asked as he moved to examine his patient.

"He doesn't remember," Trip threw in before Malcolm could speak.

"Really. Well, what is the last thing you do remember?"

Malcolm responded, "We were on the station, in the lab…there was some kind of chemical spill, I think. How did we get back here? And what are the restraints for?"

"Just a precaution, lieutenant," Phlox said calmly. 

Trip, meanwhile, was not so calm. "Is this normal? Is he not gonna remember?"

"Ah well, this is obviously uncharted drug territory, but short-term memory loss is a side-effect to some things. His memory will likely come back shortly." As he spoke, he completed a cursory examination. "You seem to be in good shape, lieutenant. I think we may be out of the woods."

"What woods? Could someone please tell me what is going on?" Malcolm pleaded. He didn't seem frustrated so much as he seemed frightened. He was unconsciously pulling at the restraints.

"Take it easy," Phlox soothed his patient. "You still need to rest."

"Can we take those off of him now?" Trip interjected.

Phlox hesitated. "I suppose. But the guard stays for a while longer."

Malcolm looked around for this guard, but couldn't see anyone else. Meanwhile, Trip nodded impatiently. 

The doctor sighed and muttered something about impetuous humans as he removed the restraints from Malcolm's wrists and ankles. "I'm going to be checking on you periodically. You too, Commander," he shot at Trip. "Don't hesitate to call if anything happens."

Trip took that the way it was intended. "I will. I know help's not far away," he said aloud. Silently he thought, _'it's just on the other side of the curtain. And it's armed.' _Before Phlox could walk away he asked, "How's Eric doin'?"

There was a pause before he answered, "He was in worse condition before he was given the injection. It is natural for it to take more time with him. We will simply have to wait and see."

Malcolm was rubbing his wrists and seemed about to ask another question, but before he could Ensign Cutler suddenly appeared at Phlox's side with Mickey in her arms. "Doctor," she began, then noticed that Malcolm was conscious. "Lieutenant Reed! Welcome back!"

"Thank you Ensign," he responded absently with his typical politeness. 

Cutler turned back to Phlox. "I found him in the bat's food," she said, presumably in reference to the animal.

Phlox cast a disapproving glance at the creature. Malcolm, meanwhile, was looking at it curiously. "I know why he looks familiar. Isn't that the rat I saw on the station?"

"Mickey," Trip informed him matter-of-factly.

"Give him to Ensign West. They seem to have a bond," Phlox instructed. She nodded and they both walked towards the West siblings. "Get some rest, both of you!" the Doctor called back.

Trip rolled his eyes, then had to shut them tightly when his headache reasserted itself again. "Are you all right, sir?" he heard Malcolm ask.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he lied. He didn't want to go into his head injury and how it had come about before he had to. In fact, part of him hoped Malcolm didn't get his memory back.

"You're really not going to explain all of this to me?"

He opened his eyes to look to his friend, then sighed. "Not right now. The doctor's right, you need to rest. We can talk later, I promise."

Malcolm didn't look completely pacified, but Trip suspected he was too exhausted to give it much thought. Now that he knew Malcolm was going to be okay, he was suddenly very exhausted as well. He lay back on his bed, shutting his eyes.

A few seconds later, he popped them back open. "Since when do we have a bat?"

~*~

On the bridge, four officers who should have been off duty and in bed long before were still present. Only T'Pol looked as if she was still fit to be there. The Captain, Hoshi, and Travis were all periodically rubbing their eyes or temples and looking thoroughly exhausted. Luckily, they had adequate backup present in case something were to happen. But none of them were willing to go to their quarters until they had news on the two patients. They knew Phlox had administered his antidote a few hours before.

Suddenly, the intercom sounded. "Captain?" came the doctor's voice. Hoshi jumped on it, then nodded to the Captain.

"Yes?"

"Lieutenant Reed is awake." 

His announcement was met with a collective sigh of relief and smiles all around the bridge. "How is he?" Jonathan asked.

"He is weak, but he seems to be doing well. My prognosis is good, Captain."

Jonathan broke into a smile of his own and reached to clap Travis on the shoulder. "What about West?" he asked.

"We're still waiting. His vitals have stabilized; he just hasn't woken yet. But I'm very optimistic."

"Thank you, doctor." 

~*~

A few hours later, as Tucker and Reed slept across the sickbay, Eric West awoke to an odd wet sensation on his face. As his brain slowly came back online, he realized that something was licking him.

"I can't leave you alone for 2 seconds, can I?" an affectionate voice asked as it approached.

He knew that voice. As the licking abruptly stopped and a weight was pulled off his chest, Eric forced his eyes open. "Eli?" he asked, voice feeble and rough from disuse.

His brother was standing on his right holding some fuzzy thing with a tail that looked vaguely familiar. When Eli heard his voice, he looked up at him sharply and almost dropped the creature. He juggled it for a second before managing to place it safely on the ground, then brought his full attention to his brother. "Eric?"

Eric was watching all of this with a small smile. "At least we remember each other's names," he joked weakly.

Eli was staring at him with a mixture of shock and relief. "Eric," he said again. Before Eric could tease him about repeating his name, his brother leaned down to carefully embrace him. Eric stared at the head beside his in confusion for a moment before bringing an arm up weakly to place around the younger man's back. He could feel Eli shaking slightly against him.

His mind was working a bit slower than usual, so it took him a few seconds to realize that his little brother was crying.

"Hey," he said gently, "What's the matter?"

Eli pulled back to look him in the eye, then managed a shaky smile that didn't quite reach his tear-filled eyes. "Nothing. You scared me a little, that's all."

Dr. Phlox appeared at that moment. Eli pulled away completely and stepped back from the bed to give him room. He half-tripped over the furry thing before reaching down to pick it up again, hugging it to his chest. This was the type of thing he would usually get teased about, but Eric was preoccupied. He knew he was in sickbay, but he found himself straining to remember why.

"What happened?" he asked the doctor, who was taking his vitals.

"It's alright, Ensign," Phlox soothed. "I fully expect your memory to come back shortly. For now, all you need to know is that you've been in a coma and you need to take it easy."

"Coma?" he asked softly. He didn't know what was going on, but even his tired brain could see one thing that seemed worth worrying about. He studied Eli's body language and facial expression and interpreted it based on years of experience. There was definite relief there, but something else was present—something much more troubling.

His little brother was afraid…of him?

~*~

To Be Continued


	13. Chapter 13

Narcosis: Chapter 13

By Piper

__

See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and other story details. 

~*~

Two days later Dr. Phlox was finally ready to release his patients to return to their own quarters. Neither of them had shown any more violent or suicidal symptoms. They seemed to be back to normal, with the exception of their memories. Neither had begun to remember the events that had taken place while they were infected.

Phlox still insisted that it would come back to them, that it was just a matter of time. In the meantime, Eric and Malcolm felt as if they'd gone off on some vacation and missed a life-altering event that no one would tell them about.

Eli spent most of his off-duty time with his brother. But even though he was present and acting as if everything was fine, Eric could sense that something was off. There were moments when he could tell that Eli was uncomfortable and almost wary of him. They would pass and Eli would refuse to tell him anything, insisting that everything was fine. It was definitely frustrating for the big brother.

Malcolm wasn't having that specific problem with anyone. On the contrary, everyone was being overly kind. Hoshi and Travis had been to see him twice together and once each individually. The Captain kept dropping by to check on him. Even T'Pol had put in an appearance yesterday. And Trip, well, Trip had become a good friend over the past few months. But suddenly he was the brother Malcolm had never had—a hovering, overprotective brother. And yet he still wouldn't tell him what had happened to his head.

Dr. Phlox observed all of this with interest. He was still convinced that the memories would come back, but at this point both of his patients were strong enough to hear some of the details. A few clues might help with the process of remembering. But no one seemed in any hurry for the two of them to remember.

Humans could be odd with their relationships. It seemed to be a protective instinct on the parts of the ones who'd had to watch them go through the effects of the chemical. They didn't want to cause them more pain with the memories of what they'd done. Eli West had stared at him as if he was speaking an alien language when he suggested it. Trip had balked at the idea of spelling everything out for Malcolm, and even the Captain had suggested they give them a few more days. Phlox understood that it would be hard for Malcolm and Eric to hear, but he was beginning to think it was harder for them not to know. They could both sense that something bad had happened and that it was effecting their relationships. It had to be frustrating.

Phlox shook himself from his musings and headed over to perform one last medical check while his patients waited for Trip and Eli, who had elected to escort them back to their quarters. 

~*~

"This is really killin' you, isn't it?"

Captain Archer looked up and met his friend's gaze. "It's…difficult," he admitted. "I feel like we should do something. Who knows how much of that stuff they already have on the planet? They're probably about to have an all-out war."

Trip looked at him sympathetically, understanding where he was coming from. They'd seen firsthand—with people they cared about—what this chemical could do. It was easy to imagine the desolation it would cause on a grand scale on that planet. But still…"I know. But I gotta agree with T'Pol on this one. We can't go in and play God with these people. We don't even know what's goin' on for sure, all we have is a second hand account by a member of one race who hadn't even been livin' on the planet for years. You made the right choice."

The 'right choice' had found the Enterprise travelling at warp away from the station shortly after Phlox had pronounced the two officers cured. They'd had a debate about it, the main point being that they might be able to stop or at least stem a devastating war. But in the end, T'Pol's logic had won out this time. There were too many unknown factors and too much risk to the crew. Thus they finally found themselves back on the path they had been on before they'd ever heard from this station.

But Trip knew that any time they had to leave people in danger, it ate at their Captain. He could see that this time was no different.  


Jonathan heaved a sigh, then shook his head. "I'll be fine, Trip. I just hope we don't come back to visit this planet sometime down the road and find that we made the wrong choice."

"Maybe someday we will find some horrible situation on that planet. But it won't be our fault. And even if that happens, you'll be able to look back at the information and the situation we had and know that you made the right choice for _us_. Believe that, Cap'n. I don't know how much comfort it is, but it's true."

Archer studied him for a second, then actually gave him a small smile. "Thanks, Trip."

"Hey, what's a chief engineer for if not counseling the Captain."

Jonathan snorted. Trip looked appropriately indignant, then changed the subject to a happier one. "I've gotta go. Phlox is releasing Malcolm and Eric today. I told him I'd come and walk Mal back to his quarters."

"They still haven't remembered anything, huh?"

"Nope. And I don't think it's a good idea for either to be alone when they start to remember. But they're both itchin' to get out of sickbay."

Archer nodded sympathetically, then added, "Why don't you bring Malcolm to dinner tonight? I'll ask Cook to fix something special for us."

Trip graced him with a smile. "Sure thing, Cap'n. I think he'll be thrilled to be eatin' real food at an actual table." He stood, giving his friend a pat on the back as he walked towards the door. "We'll see you in a few hours."

~*~

"I realize that I've been in sickbay for a few days, but unless you managed to move the mess hall in that time, we're going the wrong way."

Trip turned slightly to shoot Malcolm a smile. "Don't worry. The mess hall's in the same place it's always been. I've just gotta stop at my quarters first for some schematics the Cap'n wants to take a look at."

Malcolm nodded and followed his friend docilely. He was happy to finally be out of sickbay, even if Trip was sticking to him like glue. He waited as Trip opened the door and went in, then started to follow.

Then he stopped abruptly. He glanced around the room and felt his heart rate speed up. His mind raced as it was suddenly assaulted with images. He tried to make sense of them, Trip's voice fading into the background as the engineer continued to talk about the schematics. He leaned against the doorframe for support as he saw flashes—flashes of Trip seated on the bed looking at his bloody hand, a crewman with a phase pistol pointed at him, the Captain talking to him with something akin to fear in his eyes…

"Malcolm?"

He snapped back to the present. Trip had noticed his lack of attention and had come back to stand in front of him, concern written on his face. But Malcolm couldn't answer him. His mouth was suddenly dry as he looked into his friend's eyes and remembered for the first time exactly what had happened to Trip's head.

Apparently Trip didn't need him to respond. Understanding crossed his features as he stared at Malcolm and he said softly, "You remember, don't you?"

"I hit you, didn't I? It's all jumbled in my head…"

He was vaguely aware of Trip saying "Come on, let's sit," and helping him into the room to a seat on the bed. Trip disappeared from his line of vision for a moment, then reappeared on his eye level as he pulled the desk chair up to sit facing him. "What do you remember?"

Malcolm was still looking around the room, letting the sights provoke memories. "Something happened in here," he said softly.

Trip sighed. "Yeah. I think we should start at the beginning and give you a reason for all these memories before you get to far into them. You know you were effected by the chemicals on the station."

"Yes. That's all I know; that's all the doctor would tell us." Malcolm allowed his frustration with that to come through.

"We thought it was best…" Trip paused and shook his head. "Never mind. I think you'll understand when you've heard everything. The chemicals were some sort of biological agent created for warfare. Once you were exposed it worked in stages. At first, after you regained consciousness on the station, there weren't any symptoms. Phlox couldn't find anything wrong with any of you. But a little bit later you all started showing…how should I put this? Violent tendencies."

"Violent…" Malcolm barely spoke the word as his mind continued to race.

Trip was watching him closely as he continued, "Eric started in on Eli, but stopped himself before things went too far. Then he got himself a weapon, went down to Engineering, and took a crewman hostage."

Malcolm stopped trying to force his own memories long enough to process that. "How did that end with him in a coma?"

"He forced the security officers to stun him. Then he went into cardiac arrest." There was more to that story—something that was obviously making it a difficult memory for Trip. But Malcolm had a bad feeling that he had caused some worse ones.

"What about Ensign Thomas?" he asked.

"From what we can tell she put her fist through her mirror. But Malcolm," he paused and had to take a deep breath before going on. "I told you there were stages. Well, the last one was suicidal impulses."

Malcolm stared at him for a moment. "She's dead." He would undoubtedly dwell on that later. But right then, the information was providing him with a clearer memory. "The Captain told me that…I had a pistol in my hand…"

Trip swallowed hard but said nothing, allowing Malcolm to work it out on his own.

"Bridge to Commander Tucker," sounded suddenly from the intercom. "The Captain's wondering where you are, sir."

Trip patted Malcolm's knee and stood to cross the room and answer the call. "Travis, this is Trip. We had a little delay. Tell the Cap'n we need a few minutes, okay?"

"Uh…okay, Commander," came a response. Travis sounded a little funny. Trip seemed to notice as well, but he shrugged it off and returned to Malcolm.

By this point, Malcolm had a fairly coherent picture of what had happened in this room. He remembered slamming the pistol into Trip's head and dragging him in here. He remembered sitting in the corner and later pacing around, waving the pistol. He remembered the Captain's entrance and hauling Trip in front of himself as a human shield. And he remembered shoving the Commander away and what had followed. He found himself fighting sudden tears as Trip settled back into the chair. "I'm sorry," he choked out.

Trip's winced in empathy and reached to grip Malcolm's shoulder. "Don't apologize. It was the chemicals, _not_ you. I know that, and you do too." 

Trip said nothing more for a few minutes as they sat in silence. Malcolm was lost in the process of sorting all of this out. He was vaguely aware of Trip's fingers kneading his shoulder, reminding him that his friend was there.

The door suddenly burst open. They both looked up, startled, as the Captain came barreling in, stopping short a couple of feet into the room. He glanced back and forth between them, saw that neither of them seemed to be in danger, and said rather lamely, "Uh…hi guys."

Malcolm stared at him in confusion. "Sir?" Beside him, Trip snickered as the somber mood was interrupted.

Archer shot his best friend a dirty look. It only served to make Trip giggle harder. "Travis told me you were both down here and that you were going to be a while. He was a little concerned. We were all a little concerned." He turned back to address the three crewmen who were armed and exchanging confused looks behind him. "False alarm, gentlemen. You can go back to your duties."

They continued to look confused, but they went anyhow. Malcolm looked from the slightly embarrassed Captain to his very amused friend and wondered if he shouldn't be worrying about their sanity instead of his own.

"I'm sorry, Cap'n," Trip said, having finally overcome his laughter, though his voice was still clearly amused at their Captain's less than dignified entrance. "I though Travis sounded a little off. But it didn't occur to me that he would think you had another hostage situation on your hands." Jonathan looked surprised and glanced at Malcolm when Trip mentioned the hostage episode. The engineer was quick to assure him, "It's okay, Cap'n. We were just takin' a walk down memory lane."

Realization dawned on Archer's face. "You remember, Malcolm?" he asked gently.

Malcolm sighed as the humor drained from the room. "Unfortunately sir. Now I see why no one wanted to tell me anything." 

"It's not your fault," Jonathan said promptly. "None of it is."

Trip cut in quickly, "We're _starting_ to remember, sir."

Malcolm glanced between them again, as Trip was clearly insinuating that there were things they hadn't covered yet. He shuddered to think what more there could be…

The Captain nodded in understanding. "Okay. Well, why don't we save our big dinner for tomorrow night? I'll give you two some time to talk."

"That'd be great, sir. Thanks."

Archer left, though not as quickly as he'd come in. As the door closed behind him Malcolm looked Trip in the eye and just jumped in. "What haven't you told me yet?"

Trip hesitated, then said slowly, "Do you remember anything that happened on the bridge or in sickbay?"

"I was in sickbay more than once? After the initial examination?"

"Yeah…after the little incident on the bridge we sent you to get checked out again. Doc still thought you were fine."

Malcolm racked his brain for some memory of the bridge. Slowly he asked, "Was there a small alien ship?"

"Yes." Trip seemed very reluctant to reveal anything that he wasn't remembering on his own.

Malcolm closed his eyes and tried to just let the memory flow. "They threatened us, didn't they? And I…" he popped his eyes back open. "I wanted to blow them out of the sky."

Trip winced. "Yeah. Keep going."

Malcolm wasn't sure he wanted to, but he shut his eyes obediently and mentally went back to the bridge. "The Captain said no and ordered me to stand down, then I…I hit him?" he opened his eyes again to stare at Trip in horror. "I hit the Captain?"

Trip grimaced and reluctantly responded, "That may be putting it a little mildly."

Malcolm's eyes went a little wider in shock. "Someone had to pull me off of him."

"That was me. Since that wasn't exactly typical behavior for you, we knew somethin' was wrong. The Cap'n ordered you taken to sickbay."

"Then something happened in sickbay? Please tell me I didn't try to kill someone else."

"Well, I don't think you were tryin' to kill her."

"Her…Hoshi." Malcolm closed his eyes again. Ironic how he'd wanted so badly to know what had happened and now he'd really prefer to go back and be ignorant about the whole thing. He wondered if his sudden tide of memories held any more unpleasant surprises to haunt him.

"Malcolm," Trip waited until he had his friend's attention, then continued sincerely, "I know all of this is hard for you to hear. But it was absolutely not your fault. And I'm sure that doesn't make you feel a whole lot better at the moment, but you're going to be hearing it from all of us until you firmly believe it."

Malcolm said nothing, but apparently continued to look distressed. Trip reached to take his face gently in his hands, effectively forcing him to look him in the eye. "Hey, it's gonna take time. But everything's gonna be okay. I promise."

Malcolm felt the tears welling in his eyes threatening to spill. But he held Trip's gaze. And he actually managed a small nod. Trip smiled and pulled him into a hug. Malcolm allowed himself to be held and leaned into his friend, accepting the comfort. He dreaded the nightmares he was sure were coming. This would be very hard for him. But some part of him desperately wanted to believe that Trip was speaking the truth, and he held onto that. 

~*~

To Be Continued 

(One more time—I've got an epilogue coming to tie up some loose ends. But look, no real cliffhanger this time!)


	14. Epilogue

Narcosis: Epilogue

By Piper

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See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and other story details. 

~*~

"Hey big brother, we're going to be late!" Eli West called as he barged into Eric's quarters. The Captain had invited the two brothers to join him, Commander Tucker, and Lieutenant Reed for dinner. Eli supposed it was sort of a celebration for surviving this entire ordeal.

He stopped short when he caught sight of his brother. Eric was seated on his bunk, staring at the still-bruised knuckles of his right hand, almost as if he were in a trance. 

"Eric?" Eli said softly, approaching slowly.

He got no response, and he settled gingerly at his Eric's side. Instinctively he reached for his brother's hand, gripping it gently and pulling it towards himself. Eric finally looked up, focusing on the younger man. There were hints of tears in his eyes. "I could have killed you," he choked out in a whisper.

Eli sucked in a breath and shut his eyes briefly. He knew that Lieutenant Reed had regained his memory and he had been expecting this moment, though definitely not looking forward to it. He hated seeing the pain in his brother's eyes. Still, he locked gazes with him to let Eric see the emotions in his own eyes as he began to speak. "But you didn't. And I don't believe that you would have."

Eric shook his head. "Eli, I could feel something off between us from the moment I woke from that coma. Please don't lie to me. I could tell that you were shaken, and now I know why."

Eli sighed. Eric knew him far too well. "Okay, yeah. It threw me off a little."

"And brought back some memories. Memories that would be much better left dead and buried."

"They're never going to die," Eli said softly, then realized that wasn't what his brother needed to hear right then. "Yes, it shocked me. But I knew that something was wrong with you. Eric, I know that you would never hurt me."

"I _did_ hurt you." 

This guilt trip obviously wasn't going to go away quietly. Those childhood memories belonged to both of them, and they were tearing at both of them yet again. Eli had been forced to relive them. But Eric was going through something new, something he'd never wanted to experience—identifying with the abuser. 

Eli reached for his brother, gripping his shoulder tightly. "Listen to me, Eric. Yes, you hurt me. But you could have done so much worse, and you stopped yourself. This chemical was so powerful that you shouldn't have had that kind of control. But you _did_. Because you cared about me that much, and I see that."

"Eli…I would never want to hurt anyone like that, especially you." Eric's tears spilled over. 

"I know that," Eli responded, heart breaking for his big brother. "I know." He put his arms around Eric and hugged him tightly. After a moment Eric returned the embrace and let his silent tears fall on his brother's shoulder. "Everything's okay," Eli whispered.

After a while, the tears slowed and dried. Then Eric responded, "I just don't see how things could be okay between us right now. I don't see how _you_ could be okay with this."

Eli sighed. "You want the truth? I was afraid I would have trouble getting over it, and yeah, I was a little uncomfortable with you at first. But I'm already past that. I love you, big brother. And I trust you. Nothing is going to change between us."

"I think it is," Eric pulled back, and Eli looked at him with concern. Then he smiled. "I may have to reevaluate how much protecting you need. You're a lot more mature than I was giving you credit for."

"Hey!" Eli exclaimed in mock indignation. "I'll always need you. Maybe _you_ just need _me_ a little more than you realized."

Eric grew serious again. "I'm not stupid, little brother. I always needed you. I've known that for a long time." He paused, then said, "I'm sorry I scared you."

"I'm sorry you had to go through this at all. Look, I know we may need some time to work through this, but we will. I'm not going anywhere."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Eric broke the mood by reaching to ruffle Eli's hair. "Okay, enough mushy stuff for one night. Let's go before the Captain gets worried and sends security out looking for us."

Eli laughed. "I hear he went searching for the Commander and the Lieutenant himself."

Eric grinned at the image. "Well, I guess everyone's going to need some time to get back to normal."

~*~

"Hoshi?"

The young ensign glanced up from her meal and her conversation with Ensign Cutler, then stood. "Yes, lieutenant?" 

Malcolm met her gaze, but suddenly couldn't remember the words he had planned to say. "I…well, that is…I just wanted to stop and say…"

"Are you alright?" she asked, looking concerned.

He stopped to take a breath. "Yes. I'm fine. I just wanted to apologize."

She looked confused. "For what?"

He stared at her for a beat. "Well, for attacking you in sickbay."

"Oh. Malcolm, you don't need to apologize for that. I know that wasn't your fault."

Malcolm continued to stare at her. He couldn't believe how understanding everyone was being. His memories of the way he'd treated his friends were enough to turn his stomach. It was very hard for him to grasp the idea that they were willing to just let it go.

Trip joined them at that moment, slinging a friendly arm around Malcolm's shoulders. "Evenin' everybody. What're we talkin' about?"

"Forgiveness," Malcolm offered softly.

Trip and Hoshi exchanged a look that went unnoticed by Malcolm, as he had taken to studying the ground. He looked back up again as he felt a small hand slip into his own to hold it gently. "Malcolm, we're fine," Hoshi said quietly. "Don't worry so much."

After a few moments of silence as Malcolm looked at the sincerity in Hoshi's eyes, Trip cleared his throat. "Well Lieutenant, we really shouldn't keep the Captain waiting. If you're done monopolizing the ladies..." the engineer put in with raised eyebrows and a barely hidden smile.

Malcolm blushed. Hoshi and Elizabeth both looked away to hide their giggles. Trip took pity on his friend and steered him away. Malcolm began to make his way toward the Captain's dining room, but Hoshi called Trip back. 

"You know he still feels really guilty about all of this," she said softly.

Trip sighed, glancing at his friend's retreating back. "Yeah. I think he just needs some time. And maybe a little reassurance."

She nodded sympathetically and went back to her meal. Trip hurried to catch up with Malcolm, arriving at the door in time to enter the room with his friend.

"Are we early?" Malcolm asked, glancing around at the empty table. 

"No," Trip responded as he checked his watch. "I guess everyone else is late."

The two of them settled into two chairs on one side of the table. After a few seconds of silence watching the stars, Trip spoke again. "Hey, can we talk for a minute?"

"Sure," Malcolm responded, curious about Trip's unusually serious tone. "Is something wrong?"

Trip hesitated a moment before answering. He was obviously struggling with what to say, and it was making Malcolm a bit nervous. "Not exactly. I guess I'm just a little…concerned. I've been thinkin' about somethin' you said."

"When?" Malcolm asked with a bit of trepidation.

"All through that little episode in my quarters, you kept bringin' up how you thought that no one cared about you. Now I realize that was mostly the chemicals talkin', but I can't help but worry that it all had some basis in reality for you."

Malcolm shook his head, at a loss for words. Then he tried to shrug it off, "Don't worry about it—"

"I _am_ worried about it." Trip reached to gently grip Malcolm's chin, forcing his gaze up to meet the engineer's serious eyes. "Malcolm, I'm your friend. I care about you. And I'm certainly not the only one on this ship who does. You shouldn't be thinkin' any different."

"He's right."

They both looked up in surprise as the Captain walked into the room. Neither of them had even noticed the door opening. He gave them a smile. "Sorry to interrupt."

"No problem, sir," Trip responded. "I think I could use some backup here."

Malcolm ignored Trip and addressed the Captain. "Sir, speaking of being sorry—" 

Archer cut him off as sat down at the head of the table. "Malcolm, don't apologize. It's not necessary."

"It would make me feel better, Captain."

Archer studied Malcolm for a second and then exchanged a glance with Trip before saying, "All right. Go ahead."

"I'm very sorry that I hit you."

"Apology accepted. Now—"

Malcolm wasn't finished yet. "And I'm sorry I disobeyed a direct order."

"Okay. Malcolm—"

But Malcolm was on a roll. "I should never have undermined your authority, especially in front of junior officers and I have much more respect for you than that and—"

"Malcolm!" Trip broke in from his side. "Take a breath, will ya'?"

Before Malcolm could do so and start in on his apologies again, the Captain chimed in. "You really don't need to apologize. It was _not_ your fault and we all know that. And Malcolm," he paused and waited until the younger man made eye contact with him, "what Trip was saying when I came in is absolutely true. This crew is a family and you are an important part of that."

Malcolm struggled with a response, finally speaking as honestly as he could. "I know that, sir, at least on some level. It is unbelievably important to me. I guess I'm just a bit insecure about my place in it at times. I think life experience has taught me that."

Beside him, Trip squeezed his shoulder. "Well then, you need some new life experiences. And you definitely found the right crew to get them with."

Malcolm allowed himself a small smile. "Thank you. Both of you."

The West brothers joined them at that moment. Captain Archer welcomed the two ensigns and invited them to sit before asking them how they were doing. They exchanged a look and a couple of smiles before responding that they were fine. It actually seemed to be an honest answer.

A crewman arrived shortly with their dinners. The five of them managed to put aside the baggage they had accumulated lately and had a pleasant meal. Nothing more was said of the recent events until the dinner party was breaking up. As everyone was preparing to leave Archer spoke, "Before we call it a night, I have one more thing to add. I know this has been a tough week for you all. My door is always open, and I think I speak for Commander Tucker as well." He and Trip exchanged a glance and the engineer nodded affirmation. "You can always come to us if you need to talk about anything."

Malcolm met the Captain's gaze and gave him a slight nod and a smile to let him know that he had gotten the message and that he appreciated it. He exchanged a smile with Trip as well before echoing the thanks of the two ensigns and following them out of the room.

Captain Archer and Commander Tucker remained at the table for a few more minutes. "It may take a little time, but I think they're both going to be fine," Jonathan observed.

"Yeah," Trip agreed, then stood. "So, what are you doin' this evenin'? Got an exciting water polo match to watch?"

"I wish," Archer said with a smile. But it quickly disappeared. "I've got a call I have to make."

After a moment of confusion, understanding crossed Trip's face. "Need some moral support?" he asked sympathetically.

"Thanks, but no. You go get some rest," Archer reached up to give his friend a pat on the shoulder. 

Trip nodded slightly. "Alright, but that 'open door' thing goes for you too, you know. You don't have to wait for me to hunt you down and talk."

The Captain grinned. "I know Trip."

Trip smiled and slapped his friend lightly on the back, then called a 'good night' over his shoulder as he left the dining room.

The Captain spent another few minutes just sitting at the table and sipping the remnants of his wine. His ship was finally getting back to normal after the recent events that had threatened to tear them apart. But there was still one thing he had to do before the whole ordeal would be over. Finally, knowing that he was simply prolonging the inevitable, he stood and slowly made his way back to his quarters where he placed the call.

He waited until the familiar face appeared on the screen, then took a deep breath before launching in. "Good evening, Admiral Thomas. I'm afraid this is an official call."

Light-years away, a father's heart broke. On board the Enterprise, two mangled hearts began to mend.

~*~

The End

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Author's Notes: I want to thank everyone who's been reading and reviewing this story! I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I really appreciate those of you who have taken the time to give me feedback.

This story kind of took on a life of its own. I didn't really expect it to be this long when it began, and Captain Archer took a bigger role that I had originally planned. (Oh well, it is his ship, I suppose he's entitled!) Also, I've never really used original characters to this degree before. I didn't expect the West brothers to take as big a part, but the more I got to know them the more I liked them. I'm rather attached to them now!

Despite all of that, I think Malcolm and Trip will always be my favorites. I set out to write a story that held big parts for both of them and highlighted their friendship, and I hope I have done that. Again, thank you for reading!


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